


Emotions Get the Better

by fanficsandfluff



Category: Joker (2019)
Genre: Attempted Assault, Blood, Cute, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, NSFW, Sex, Slow Burn, Tickling, Violence, slightly nsfw, ticklish!Reader, you're crushing on Arthur
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 23:17:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 37,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21346411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanficsandfluff/pseuds/fanficsandfluff
Summary: I included Arthur's perspective as kind of a third person omniscient while the "reader" is still first person POV. I hope it's not too confusing or reads too sloppy.
Relationships: Arthur Fleck/Original Female Character(s), Arthur Fleck/You, Joker (DCU)/Original Female Character(s), Joker/You
Comments: 46
Kudos: 293





	1. Chapter 1

You were always a very emotional person. All around over-emotional on any layer of the spectrum of emotions. You’d feel a pit in your stomach and a lump in your throat when you’d see a particularly beautiful ballet performance while at work. If you found something even minorly funny, but it touched you in a certain way, you’d cackle. If you got genuinely angry at something, you’d shout until your throat hurt; and if you were angry enough, you’d start to cry. Full circle of tears. 

Hormones, your mom would blame it on when you were growing up. You did have some hormonal imbalances but you’d been taking pills for that most of your life. Fucking pills. If you could, you’d never take a single pill the rest of your life; but then you think about it too hard and you think you’ll drop dead after one day without meds. So you keep picking up your prescriptions. 

Anyway, as of late there’d been new and strange occurrences on your commute to work. You worked at the biggest theater in Gotham as an usher. They held bands, cultural shows, and dance performances, and they were planning on a Gala screening of Charlie Chaplin’s Modern Times in the upcoming month. You were excited for that and kept basically begging your boss to give you a shift for that event. But during your walk from the train station to the theater, swerving through bustling crowds that seem to always intentionally bump into each other, you’d noticed a green tuft of bouncing hair on the other side of the street where you’d normally cross. A clown was dancing, advertising an “Everything Must Go” sale. He seemed happy enough to be doing what he was doing. And you had to stare at him for a little longer than you probably should have. Clowns always gave you the creeps, even if some people genuinely though they were funny. So that day, you waited until the next block to cross the street. 

And you realized this guy had a decent gig because he’d be in the same spot on that street every day for the next week. You’ve seen him so much you were surprised that by now he hadn’t turned to look at you and beep his red nose at you. Well, you supposed you’d recognize him more than he would recognize one person out of hundreds that pass him every day. But seeing him every day heading to work somehow gave you something to think about during the more boring shifts. Do people see his sign and act and visit the store that’s closing? Is everyone just as perturbed by his clown makeup, hair, and shoes as you so they just ignore him? Do the drapes match the carpet? 

You snorted at that last one out loud as you washed your hands in the bathroom sink and splashed water over your tired face after a 7 hour shift, on your feet, with nothing but one 15 minute break to serve as your rest. 

You could hear the train rattling on the track above you, so you started sprinting towards the staircase that led up to the platform. And just in time, you sped into the closing doors, your shoulder getting hit with the brunt of the automatic door, which forced open upon your entry. You stood inside the train car and let out an audible, “Whew….” and caught your breath as you stumbled to an empty seat and plopped down on it. Thank god you made it. You would’ve had to wait another 45 minutes for the next one. The train began to rumble forward.

As your breath slowed and your heartbeat returned to normal, you took in your surroundings of this late-night subway car. You shifted your eyes to the left and your jaw almost dropped. Clown guy seemed to be looking at you with a faint smile on his painted face, but quickly turned his head away when you made eye contact with him. 

You grinned to yourself and looked down at the empty coffee cup rolling backwards and forwards in the seat across from you. The clown must’ve had a long day to be coming home at this hour of night. And he still was in full garb, wig and all. You didn’t want to be rude, but you finally had the chance to get a good look at him, not just from across the street. You looked at his big clown shoes and had to stifle a genuine laugh. The whole getup on this shitty Gotham train at like midnight was somehow the funniest thing you’d seen in a while. You wanted to snap a picture if you could. The man seemed to be in his own world now that he wasn’t staring at you. 

The train pulled into the next stop and a bunch of rowdy teenagers got on and you already wanted to switch train cars. You had a long ways to go before your own stop. 

They were all busy yelling and laughing and pushing each other as the train lurched forward, until one of them tapped another on the shoulder and went, “Yo yo yo,” to get his attention. He caught sight of the clown. The boys mellowed out for the time being and all turned to look at the clown, who seemed oblivious he was even a target of theirs. 

Slowly, each of the boys started giggling to themselves, making jokes at the clown’s expense. 

“Yoho! That’s so fucking creepy, man–”

“What the fuck, are we in a horror movie, like–?”

And one of the more brave teens of the bunch stepped closer to the clown as the train rocked, “Hey, man, going to a birthday party?”

The clown’s eyes shifted up towards the teen and he looked away again, not wanting to get into this. 

The teen scoffed and kicked one of his oversized shoes, “You ain’t exactly the funniest clown I’ve seen. You wanna tell a joke? Change my mind?”

You were sitting, trying your hardest not to get involved in this scene. Rule one of being in Gotham was that you always minded your own business. Crazy guy screaming about the mayor and somehow also grilled cheese? You ignore him or get up and calmly move to another car when the train stops. You never make eye contact. 

But this poor guy was just minding his own damn business and these dumbass kids are bothering him just because he’s decked out in clown gear. This wasn’t right—

You were shaken out of your own thoughts and actually had to look up when you heard what had to be a laugh, but it came out as a cry, almost. The clown had thrown his hand over his mouth, but behind it he was stifling laughter. 

“You’re supposed to make us laugh, bozo! Not the other way around! Jesus!” and now the teen was laughing at the clown. 

You couldn’t look away now, as the whole posse was cackling along with the clown. But you knew something was off about the way the clown was laughing. You could see his hand going to hold his throat as a small choking sound made its way out of his mouth, and then the giggling resumed. 

“You’re a fucking freak!” one of the other teens yelled and they started to crowd around him, all taunting him. Some were even starting to shove him. 

You blessed the heavens since you knew this was one of the shorter stops on the train and you stood up from your seat and loudly yelled, “Hey!” over the sound of the group’s raucous. You just prayed these teens would respect a lady. You wanted to slap yourself just for that stupid thought. 

They turned to look at you and you almost clammed up before saying slowly, “Listen, can we just leave the guy be?”

“He started laughing at me! Don’t you think he’s a fucking creep, lady?”

“You know, maybe he wasn’t laughing at you. Maybe he just remembered a joke and started laughing at that. He is a clown, so he’s supposed to find things funny. You think you can just switch cars? Please, he wasn’t going to bother anyone.”

The train screeched to a halt and the teens all looked around at each other. It seemed your politeness took them for a loop because they weren’t used to having to deal with manners. You gave them one of your stern looks you saved for especially rude patrons at work. 

“Aight, I mean, I guess you want some alone time with your boyfriend. Have a good night, miss,” the teen who got up close to the clown said to you with a sneer to his voice and a glint in his eye. As the doors opened, the boys scurried out together. One of them tripped over the clown’s big shoe and the others continued to laugh at him. 

They were gone, into another car or hopefully back out on the streets so they could go home to their damn families. The train moved forward once more.

You looked down at the clown who you realized had stopped laughing and was now looking up at you with what you could probably describe as shock, but you didn’t want to be that generous towards yourself. You took a seat beside him, “Kids can be such assholes, right? Geez… are you okay?” you saw his wig was now crooked and long brown locks peeked out from under it.

“I’m fine,” he finally answered after a little too long of a pause, and added, “Thank you. That was very nice of you.”

“No problem. Just maybe in the future change out of your getup before coming on the train?” 

The man looked at you and his lips twitched upward in what could have been a smile if he didn’t let them fall back to the almost-frown he had on before. 

You looked at him a bit longer. He had such a meek voice. You never would’ve guessed he sounded like that just from seeing him dancing from across the busy Gotham street. But now that you were up close to him, you can see how delicate his frame was, how oversized all of his clothes really were on him, not just his shoes. 

“When do you get off?” you asked.

“N-Not for a while. Second to last stop.”

“Okay. Mine’s a bit before that, so I’ll just ride with you until then.”

The clown stared at you as if you were from another planet before he cleared his throat gently and slid the green wig off his head and put it away with care into a big duffel bag he carried with him. 

You got more comfortable in your seat and let out a yawn. The ride went smoothly for the next few stops, the clown not interacting with you at all. You could feel like he wanted to say something to you or turn and look at you, but all he did was sit and look down at his lap.

“I’m Arthur,” he finally said in a voice just above a whisper, and he looked at you.

You looked back at him and gave him a smile, sharing your first name with him, as well.

“I’ve seen you around, Arthur,” you finally brought up the topic you most wanted to address, “You’re in front of the shop that’s closing down. I pass by you on my way to work.”

“Oh, I— Well, I’m sorry I haven’t noticed you before.”

“Not your fault, I mean, I walk on the other side of the street and you have no reason to literally notice me out of every person that passes by you each day. How’d you get the clown gig?”

Your eyes kept drifting down to his vest because looking at the clown makeup in such close proximity for too long was starting to skeeve you out. 

“It’s something I’ve always thought I’d be good at. I’m actually a comedian.”

“Oh,” you nodded and smiled, “I can see the connection.”

There was more silence and Arthur fiddled with the hem of his shirt. Your stop was finally here and you stood up, “Well, I’ll see you, Arthur. I’ll say hi more directly next time I go to work. Stay safe.”

“Th-Thank you again,” he said probably the most confidently he’d said anything during his interaction with you. 

You stepped off the train and gave him a small wave. Doing something like that for someone made you feel sooooo good. Wow, you need to be participating in more selfless deeds more often. You can see how people say helping less fortunate is rewarding. You made an audible sound like a scoff as you walked through the late night Gotham streets; who the fuck are you to be thinking shit like that? God, your mind was everywhere lately. Maybe you would try and walk on Arthur’s side of the street tomorrow. Maybe it’ll make him happy. Maybe it’ll make the both of you feel a little bit better.


	2. Chapter 2

You were able to sleep in the next day because your shift started in the late afternoon. So you threw yourself out of bed and made yourself a midday breakfast and a midday pot of coffee. 

You couldn’t get the idea out of your head that you wanted to tell a joke to the clown on the street. So as your coffee was brewing, as you brushed your teeth by the sink, and as you washed all of yesterday’s grime off in the shower, you kept trying to figure out a joke that the clown— Arthur, his name was Arthur, wasn’t it? — that Arthur would enjoy. But man, it was hard to come up with original jokes.

When you finally thought of one that made you smile, you locked it into memory and headed out of your apartment. 

The train was packed for that time of day, filled with students and employees who just got out of school and work for the day. You were about to turn the corner where you’d normally see the clown across the street. But when you got to that point, no speck of green clown hair could be seen. You stood on the curb and watched as masses of Gothamites sped up and down the busy street, but there was no sign-twirler. 

“Hm,” you let out a curious breath. Maybe it was his day off. So, you continued your walk to the theater.

All of a sudden, a group of teenagers burst out of an alleyway you were just passing and one of them literally almost pushed you to the ground with how fast he was running. 

“Hey!” you shouted, annoyed that you got shoved anyway. You watched those teens continue running down the street, and you realized they were the same group from last night on the train.

“Dicks,” you muttered under your breath and you glanced down the alley they had just came from.

Your eyes went wide and you sprinted down to the middle of the alleyway between two Gotham skyscrapers, “Shit shit— a-are you okay?”

The clown was laying on his side on the ground, breathing heavy, ragged breaths. He started when he heard your voice and turned his head. 

“Seriously, are you okay? What the fuck did they do to you?” you kept asking, kneeling by the clown’s side. You can see his nose was bloodied, but that was the only visible injury at the moment. The clown looked like he was about to speak but whimpered and squeezed his arm around his midsection instead, still trying to catch his breath and center himself.

“Arthur,” you said gently, “What can I do?”

Again, no answer. 

“Let me take you to the hospital, please, I can’t—”

“No,” he finally croaked.

“What, why?”

“I-I….” Arthur sighed and rolled onto his back, “I’m be fine. I’m fine…” he stared up at you, his eyes seemingly coming into focus, “I remember you.”

You stared at him incredulously, sure he had something broken around his middle and his nose still looked like it was smashed. You almost wanted to laugh. I remember you. You just got fucked up by those goddamn teens and… No hospital? Well, shit, you weren’t a nurse so you couldn’t help him. 

“What did they do to you?”

Arthur’s face grew sad, and it looked so warped in his cheery clown makeup. 

“Just some kids, I-I shouldn’t have–”

“Those ones from the train, right? I saw them. They jumped you?” you just now realized your hand was placed on his shoulder this whole time. 

Arthur nodded and he tried sitting up but stifled a groan.

“Please let me take you to the hospital. You could have broken bones! And your nose is all–”

“No, I can’t afford it,” Arthur finally said, broken, sad, ashamed. 

You frowned. This poor, poor guy. You checked the time on your watch. You’d be late in the next ten minutes. 

“I can take you home?” you offered. 

Arthur looked at you with that same puppy-ish expression as he did last night on the train after you’d shoo’d those goons away. 

You sighed, started to get irritated by his nonchalant attitude, “Well, I’m not leaving you here. Come on,” you stood and hooked your arm under Arthur’s. You helped him gingerly stand. 

As you emerged out of the alleyway with Arthur limping by your side, you didn’t even feel a little self-conscious about the fact that here you were, in the middle of Gotham City, with a bruised and bloodied clown hanging off your arm. 

“Do you have a lot of ice at home? I think ice would help with bruises and soreness,” you offered as you approached the train station together. He forced himself to be free from your supportive hold on his arm when you reached the stairs. 

“I have ice,” he responded. He walked on his own and got on the train with you. 

Someone saw Arthur’s face and immediately stood up from their seat on the train. You wanted to think they were doing it out of pity for his still bloody face. But you knew they were just scared. 

You let him have the seat and you stood in front of him, hanging onto the railing above you. 

“We need to stop meeting like this,” you said.

“What?” Arthur looked up at you, genuine concern and confusion written on his face.

Then you smirked, “With me coming to your rescue… and with you dressed as a clown.”

Arthur huffed, and you were worried for a split second you offended him, but he was smiling, and that huff was a small laugh. He squeezed his arm around his midsection tighter after that, the laugh clearly causing him some pain. You frowned again. You should’ve forced him to go to a hospital anyway. Even some shady one down the next Gotham alley or some shit. He could have internal bleeding for all you knew.

“My clown name is Carnival,” he said, still an innocent smile upon his lips.

“Carnival,” you repeated, knocked out of your worrisome thoughts, “That’s a good name. Like that song.”

It was clear he didn’t know what you were talking about.

“My Name is Carnival. It’s a song. Can’t remember the singer, but you should give it a listen.”

Arthur nodded, “Yeah. I will,” he said easily. 

You looked at each other in silence for a bit more. You wondered why he wouldn’t rip off that wig and that false red nose. Relieve himself of the costume, of the act and just be able to feel the pain he was surely experiencing. You thought of yanking the red nose from his face, or yanking it and watching it snap back into his real nose. That would’ve made him laugh, you were sure of it. 

“I’m sorry those kids beat you up, Arthur,” you said, genuinely, “I feel like it’s my fault, like because I was there to stop them the first time they just took it out on you today and–”

“No! No no no,” Arthur kept saying, “Nothing’s anyone’s fault anymore. This city’s just getting crazier. You stopping them the other night was one of the few miracles I’d seen in Gotham. You’re a very kind person.”

You could imagine him reaching out and holding your hand in thanks and solidarity. But that didn’t happen. You balled your hand into a fist in your jacket pocket. 

“Thank you,” you took the compliment, “I just don’t see the need of being a dick to someone all the time. Life’s already a fucking joke, right? Might as well try to live it with a sense of decency.”

“This is my stop,” Arthur said, but his eyes were almost shining, like the last night on the train. He stood up and you walked out with him. It was sunset now and the lights bounced off the slick city streets and glass windows on buildings, making it all somehow look nice. 

“Hey, there’s a pharmacy right there. You want me to go in and get you supplies for your face or your ribs or–”

“No. I told you I have ice at home.”

You looked at him, hoping he’d just agree with you after all. But he didn’t and he kept walking. It was at this point when he took his wig off and held it in his hand limply. Next came the red nose, now gripped in the palm of his other hand. You jogged to catch up with him. 

You turned a few corners with him until he started toward the biggest staircase you’d ever seen. He climbed the first step and you thought, ‘Oh fuck that…’

“Wait, there’s no other way to get to your home?”

“This is the fastest.”

And he started climbing the stairs. You watched him go up the first six steps and you didn’t even move. He looked hurt, it was obvious. But there was something in how he was tackling this surely painful challenge of mounting the stairs with an air of someone who was beyond physical pain. There was a tiredness and a weakness that loomed in his posture, in each sure step he took from one stair to the next. But the climb was a familiar one to him. It was clear he had done this most of his life. As you followed behind him and when you were getting winded, you didn’t hear a peep out of him. Not an out-of-breath sigh or a grimace of pain. 

Arthur reached the top first, and you still had another flight to go. He smiled at you, clearly with an air of making fun of you, but not in a mean way. 

“Any day now,” he said, a certain bounce in his voice.

You huffed a small laugh and jogged the last few steps to reach the top, “Jehesus Christ…. I wanna fucking die….”

Arthur smiled more at you and he waited for you to catch your breath before continuing his walk….. which was up another hill. No wonder this guy was skinny as a twig.

You felt the air was getting less tight, and you couldn’t explain it. But things all around felt like they were getting better. You almost forgot that Arthur had dried blood caked under his nose, mixing with his makeup. 

“Oh, I almost forgot!” you exclaimed, making Arthur jump at your sudden volume, “I was coming up with something to tell you all morning.”

Arthur had no clue what that something could be, so he simply said, “What?”

“Why can’t your nose be 12 inches long?” 

There was a silence as the two of you kept walking. Arthur caught on immediately and he smiled, trying to think of the punchline, “Uhhhh…”

But you came right in with it, unable to contain yourself anymore, “Cuz then it’d be a foot,” and you belted out a laugh. 

Arthur was amused, and he let out a titter of a giggle, most of his laughter coming out as breathy. He watched you with what could have been perceived as adoration in his eyes.

“That was very good,” he chuckled. 

“I cahame up with it today,” you were still giggling and wiped a tear of laughter from your eye, “I thought you’d appreciate it.”

“I did. Very much so,” Arthur said and he stopped walking. You paused, as well. You two were in front of a rundown looking apartment building. Then again, how many buildings in the city weren’t rundown? 

“Please take care of yourself, Arthur,” you said to him, still showing him a friendly smile. 

“I will.”

There was an awkward silence.

“I don’t know what to say,” Arthur suddenly became shy again (well, shier than he normally was thus far today), “How can I repay you for—”

You quickly interrupted him before he started to feel like he owed you just for being a decent fucking human being, “You can have my joke and use it in your acts. Free of charge, no credit due. And next time I see you, you’re gonna have to share one of your jokes with me. Then we’ll call it even. Deal?” you smiled again, trying to catch his eye so you knew he understood.

Arthur smiled back at you, “Deal.”

“Well, goodnight, Arthur,” you said, realizing it was now dark out. 

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Arthur said in response, and he watched you walk down the next block before he turned and entered his apartment. He was smiling the whole way up to his apartment, even prompting his mother to ask, “What’s got you so giddy?” So, he told her the joke you shared with him. She rolled her eyes, corners of her lips turned down. Arthur went to wash off his makeup for the night, and he started cackling when he looked at himself in the mirror, a wet mix of blood, multicolored paint, and his gaunt skin color dripping down his chest, over his cuts and bruises. He laughed until he nearly choked on it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I included Arthur's perspective as kind of a third person omniscient while the "reader" is still first person POV. I hope it's not too confusing or reads too sloppy.

You dealt with your boss when you got home that night you dropped Arthur off at his home. He knew you were a loyal employee so he wasn’t overly upset. So you made sure to get to work early the next few days just to make it up to him. On your walk from the train to the theater, there was no sign of Arthur. You hoped he was healing and resting. Still, you couldn’t help but look down the alley where you found him last time, just in case.

Finally, it was a Thursday night. You didn’t have work all day. You and some friends were meeting up for dinner and then you planned on going over to Pogo’s comedy club downtown; well, more downtown than where you lived. The comedians there were usually pretty funny, especially after you’ve had a few drinks.

After a pretty fatty and delicious dinner, you and two other girlfriends made your way to Pogo’s. The first comedian of the night was halfway through his act and you all were seated at a table by the bar. You ordered all your friends a round of tequila shots to start off.

One of your friends was finishing up a story that was way funnier than anything the comedian was saying at the moment, so the three of you laughed uproariously, enough to turn some audience members’ heads.

Arthur had been watching the stand-up in relative silence, since the crowd around him was dull and wasn’t fueling any real reaction from him. Then there was a sudden burst of laughter from behind him that apparently not only didn’t make sense to him but to many people around him as heads turned. He sought for the source of the laughter and his eyes landed on a table of a group of three women. Even in the dim light, he recognized a face at the table. He hardly had to think before he stood up and approached the table.

As your giggles died down, someone approached the table and stood right in front of you, blocking any view of the comedian struggling to get through his set on stage. You looked up in the dimly lit area of the club and saw a man, smiling face looking directly at you.

“Hi, Y/N,” he said your name.

You studied him for an extra second, and you gasped the minute you figured it out, “Arthur?”

“Yeahah,” he chuckled, happy you remembered him.

“Hi! Nice to see your real face,” you smiled at him.

“Well, you said we have to stop meeting when I’m dressed up, so I guess I delivered.”

You nodded, still smiling, the booze in you already making images slightly fuzzy, “Mmhm. You did. Oh, these are my friends, Emma and Sam. Do you wanna sit with us, or–?”

“No. No, I have my own table. I just wanted to say hi,” Arthur said.

He wanted to say she looked beautiful, but those bold words were far from his tongue at this moment in time. He could only think it.

“Well, thanks for saying hi,” you said, giving him a wave as he returned to his table. Once he was safely seated at his table towards the stage, you turned to your friends, “So, that was the guy I told you about. The clown.”

“Jesus Christ! That was him?”

“Kinda cliché for a clown to go to a comedy club, no? You think he’s stealing material for himself?”

You rolled your eyes and watched as the first comedian of the night stepped off the stage and handed it off to the next, “You never know. I mean, he told me he was a comedian.”

“So I was right. He’s borrowing jokes for his own act.”

You sipped at your martini and immediately laughed at the new comedian’s first joke. He was already a much better presence than the first guy, and the whole audience could agree.

This guy was really on fire. Joke after joke he was having the crowd roaring. A few minutes into his set, in the lull between setup and punchline, there was an extremely high-pitched yowl of a cackle. It came from in front of you.

You couldn’t identify where the sound came from until the next joke. Same thing happened. Silence and then that laugh. You saw Arthur and your eyes were now drawn to him.

You could see he was scribbling into a notebook in front of him. Hm, you guessed Sam was right about the taking jokes part. And when he looked up, he wasn’t so much focused in on the comedian as he was nervously glancing around at the people around him. It was like he was waiting for their reactions to the jokes. And then he laughed. You were completely fascinated by this behavior by this point that the comedian’s jokes were basically drowned out by your own laser focus on when Arthur would choose to laugh. Was he making a statement of his own by not laughing at the right parts? You could only wonder.

“So, I took my car into the shop the other day…”

Laugh.

“There was this mean looking guy, I’m talking _mean_…”

Laugh.

“And when we opened the window…”

Laugh.

You snorted at that last one. The more you focused on Arthur laughing, the more it was dawning on you how out of place they were, making them all the more funny. Then again, it could’ve also just been the alcohol. But shit, you were surprised no one else had started to laugh along with Arthur, I mean, his laugh was so contagious.

“We’re road tripping all over the midwest, you know? South Dakota, Oklahoma…”

Laugh.

And this time, you laughed a half second after Arthur’s laugh pierced the silence. It was just too funny to you. The guy had a great laugh. And thinking of the punchline as being “Oklahoma” made it all the more random and funny to you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” your friend asked you, looking at you like you were crazy.

“Wahahait, wait, you gotta listen to him,” you pointed at the out-of-makeup clown, “It’s the funniest shit I’ve experienced in a long time.”

The next joke was delivered in full, but Arthur didn’t laugh. He was busy writing. But the next one he was right back in the swing of things.

You waited for your friends’ reaction as you found yourself laughing again. And even after the next one, you were holding your stomach, your laugh coming out in wheezes by this point. You were starting to feel lightheaded.

“You belong with him, you know that?” your other friend rolled her eyes, grinning at her own joke.

Arthur was focused on what made his jokes so funny. This wasn’t a new struggle for him, but here he was again, trying his hardest. But what was different about this outing to Pogo’s than any other was that he was actually hearing someone laugh when he laughed. He slowly turned in his seat to see who is maybe on his side, who feels as disconnected as he does. To his surprise, and pleasure, it was Y/N. He smiled brightly, seeing her laughing to herself at this point, her friends shoving her and telling her to shut up. It was all somehow very charming. Best of all, Arthur could tell she had a fantastic laugh.

The night went on, and your friends decided for you that you had enough to drink, even though you knew you could pack away a few more. You eventually settled to be boring and normal like everyone else and laugh at the right punchlines. Still, your eyes flicked to Arthur when he’d get a joke that no one else on the planet would’ve understood.

The last act of the night finished up and audience members started to clear out of the comedy club. You yawned and stood, stretching. You threw your coat over your shoulders and walked out with your friends, bidding goodbye to them right outside the club since you all lived in different directions and had to split up.

You remained at the corner, inhaling the chill Gotham night air. The club was feeling a bit stuffy to you, so you wanted to enjoy the ‘fresh’ air before heading into another stuffy subway car, sure to smell of piss and burnt rubber.

“Did you like the show?”

You were startled for a second, not expecting a voice to speak that close to you. You looked Arthur in the eyes and smiled, “Yeah, I had a great night. Partly because of you.”

“I heard you,” he smiled back at you, seeming giddy to the point of bursting.

You blushed but still grinned, trying to keep some dignity, “I don’t doubt it, I’ve always had an obnoxious laugh. A lot of things about me are actually obnoxious–”

“I don’t think obnoxious is the right word. You sounded truly happy.”

You nodded, “Well, I was. When I’m a little happy, I’m usually all the way happy. When I’m a little sad, I’m all the way sad. Does that make sense?”

Arthur tilted his head, his eyes seemed to be scanning your whole face, “It kinda does, yeah.”

You pulled your coat tighter around yourself. You shared a silence together before you snorted in thought, “Can I ask you why you were laughing like that? At the parts that weren’t the punchline?” you asked with genuine curiosity, really wanting to know the answer.

Arthur paused and his face fell. He didn’t know how to explain himself. You could tell he didn’t want to answer that, so you let it go.

“Well, I’m gonna start heading home. It was–”

“Do you want to get something to eat?” he asked.

“That’s… That’s a nice offer, but I actually had dinner already and the drinks I’ve had probably mean I should turn in for the night.”

“We can just go for coffee or a donut,” Arthur pressed more. You just noticed he was holding that notebook he was writing in, as he squeezed it in his hands. You looked into his eyes and you had to admit there was something in them that was very welcoming. Maybe that’s what kept you interested in him.

“Sure. I can do that,” you said to him and you saw his face light up in relief and happiness.

“I know a place,” he said and started to cross the street.

And you followed him and his surprisingly quick yet languid pace. Coffee with a clown. That could be the title of your memoir, you thought. You grinned to yourself and kept up with Arthur.


	4. Chapter 4

The two of you arrived at this diner, coffee shop hybrid and you could smell the brewing coffee from outside, so that was instantly inviting. Arthur held the door open for you, and you got a booth for the both of you. 

Now that you were in better light and Arthur was sitting directly across from you, you couldn’t help but study his face. There was something about it that was so gentle, in his demeanor and even in the way he looked at you. And there was still that awkwardness and maybe what you would describe as slight paranoia in his shifting eyes.

“Decaf coffee and a slice of coffee cake, please,” you said once the waitress came over. You realized that was the first time you spoke since leaving the comedy club. 

After Arthur ordered his black coffee, you asked, “Do you go to Pogo’s a lot?”

“When I can, yes. I like it.”

“So, I saw you have that book,” it was now tucked away into his jacket, “What’s that for?”

Arthur hesitated. You were worried this was another “why were you laughing at all the wrong jokes” question, but Arthur put back on his smile and answered, “It’s a journal… a-and a joke book.”

“Oho, a joke book. Can you read me one?”

“No, no no I-I—”

“Come on! I really wanna hear one!” you took your coffee when the waitress brought it over and took two packets of sugar.

Arthur looked at you almost pleadingly, but he conceded and reached into his jacket for the folded up notebook. He held it in both hands as he flipped through it. You tried to get a peek of what the inside looked like, but Arthur caught you looking and he pulled it to his chest more, “Hey.”

“Sorry,” you smiled guiltily and blushed. You stirred your coffee, waiting for him to find a joke. As you sat in silence, you realized you probably knew way more about this guy than he knows about you. What has he actually asked you? Your name? That was pretty much it. And here he was, spending a late night coffee date with you. 

“Here’s one,” Arthur smiled and cleared his throat, “Give a man a match and he’ll be warm for a few hours. Set a man on fire, and he’ll be warm for the rest of his life.”

Your eyes widened and you scoffed, chuckling, “Wohohow, that’s dark. But I liked it.”

Arthur seemed not very enthused by your response to that one so he shut his book.

“Wait, can you tell me one more?” you asked, hoping your continued interest would make him happier.

Arthur re-considered, and he searched even more vigorously through his pages, skipping through a whole bunch in the beginning and focusing more towards the more recent pages. You watched his nimble fingers skim through the pages, entranced, until you were certain you caught sight of a pasted in picture of a naked woman.

“Okahay,” Arthur made himself chuckle at the joke this time, “Well, this one’s a bit sillier—”

“I love silly.”

“What kind of exercise do lazy people do?”

You grinned and bit on your lip, leaning back in your seat in thought, “Hmm…. I dunno, what?”

“Diddly-squats.”

You actually laughed at that one, the punchline being so silly and innocent and the whole joke being corny. Arthur looked proud of himself. You calmed down and looked at him, the two of you staring at each other in a content silence. You lifted your coffee cup to your lips and took a sip, eyeing him still as you took a bite of the coffee cake you ordered. Delicious, by the way.

“Okay, sorry if this is really rude of me, honestly, but I have so many questions about the clown thing. Like, how’d you get that job in the first place?”

“Oh,” Arthur smiled, “Well, I saw one of them dressed up on a corner selling laugh track records for a record store. I asked him how he got the job and I went and applied.”

“So where do you get assigned?”

“Street corners for businesses, parties… oh! and my favorite is going to the children’s hospital.”

Your heart practically melted right there, “Ohh, Arthur. That’s so amazing. Do the kids like it?”

“Yeahah, they usually love it.”

“What’s your routine?” 

“Well, there’s magic tricks, dancing, and I sometimes have a record playing songs for the children to sing with me.”

“Cute,” you mused, “I like you without your clown makeup,” you said kind of out of nowhere, “The makeup really changes how you look. Which is impressive on your part that you can hide your face so well.”

“It took some practice,” Arthur admitted. There was a faint blush on his cheeks. 

“Do you wanna ask me some questions?” you asked with a grin, “I feel like I could get you to tell me you killed JFK if I keep probing long enough. You’re not curious about me?” maybe it was a selfish question, but you wanted to know why he wouldn’t ask you things. Maybe it was politeness? 

“Oho, um, okay,” Arthur adjusted himself in his seat, “What do you do?”

“I’m an usher at Wayne Hall.”

“You are?”

“Yeah, why so surprised?”

“Not surprised. I just pass by it on my way to work. It looks like a nice theater.”

“And I pass by you on my way to work,” you smiled, “Isn’t that funny? And yeah, it’s a gorgeous theater.”

“Do you live with anyone?” was Arthur’s next question. Odd and probably a little creepy, you had to admit. 

“No,” you answered truthfully, “Just me. Crazy, right? Like, how could I possibly afford a place in the city living on my own? I made a deal with my landlord that if he reduced my rent, I’d get him free admission to see any special premieres or exhibitions or whatever he’s interested in.”

“I wish I could make a deal like that. I live with my mother and we’re still struggling,” Arthur admitted amicably.

You didn’t mean to make him feel that way, or put yourself on some pedestal above him, “I’m sorry–”

“Don’t be,” Arthur said easily again. You could see his leg shaking under the table.

There was another silence. There were many of those that night, you realized. Then there was the sound of light pattering on the window beside you and Arthur and you turned to look. 

“Oh fuck,” you sighed, seeing a rain that was getting heavier by the second, “They didn’t predict rain, did they?”

“I don’t think they did. We can stay in here and wait it out,” Arthur said.

You checked the time on your watch and it was very late at night. The trains were definitely going to be running slow. Maybe a cab? But shit, in this part of the city there were all very creepy, shady cab drivers. You pulled out your wallet to pay for your coffee and you really didn’t have enough cash on you for a cab, anyway. 

“You’re leaving now?” Arthur asked, and he looked mildly panicked, but mostly sad, and then it was like he was angry at the weather. The reaction was like a kid’s. 

“Yeah, I mean it’s getting late,” the rain sounded like it was pouring even harder. You stood up and brought your money to the cash register, paying for yours and Arthur’s snacks. 

“Oh, wait, you don’t have to pay for me. Please, let me–” Arthur was standing as well and approaching you.

“It’s just a coffee, Arthur,” you reassured him with a smile, getting your change back. 

“Will the train be coming at this hour? I wouldn’t mind at all if you stayed over at my place, I only live a few blocks from here.” _You also live with your mother. What are you thinking bringing a woman home with you?_, he rationalized in his head.

“That’s very sweet of you,” you pulled your coat up around you more, ready to brace the rain, “I’ll see you, Arthur.”

“Will you?”

The odd response made you turn back to him when you reached the door. He looked sad, guilty almost. Something was clearly going on in his head as he stared straight through you. 

“You know where to find me,” you said as a final goodbye, jogging through the downpour to get to your subway track. At least the station would have a roof over it. 


	5. Chapter 5

You paid your fare and got onto the platform, letting out a sigh of relief that the rain was no longer soaking you through. When you looked around at your surroundings, you could see there was really no one except you and two guys down at the farther end of the platform. 

You tried not to stare at them too long, but if living in Gotham this long had taught you anything, you knew to grip your purse tighter to yourself. You dug a hand inside and found your keys, finagling them between your fingers in case those men posed any danger to you. And with no sign of a train coming, the lights of the platform flickering in and out, and only the drips of the rain falling through the cracks in the ceiling, you saw how both men were starting to approach you. 

_Fuck_, you thought. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe they wanted a different view of the track. 

They got even closer, so now you could start making out facial features if you wanted to. 

“You cold, sweetheart?”

Your stomach dropped and you forced yourself to look at the older, clearly drunken man inching closer to you. The other one wasn’t far behind. 

“I’m fine, thank you.”

This wasn’t like the teens bothering Arthur on the train. You could use a stern voice with them and maybe you’d remind them of their moms so they’d listen. But this wasn’t like that at all. Be rude and he’ll punch you and rape you. 

“You sure? You look like you’re shivering,” he was close enough that you could smell his breath, and his hand reached out and cupped your cheek. You tore it away from him and took a few steps back. That’s when the other man ran around to the other side of you. He was on the side where you’d need to run to get to the exit. The panic was setting in worse.

“P-Please leave me alone. I can give you money. My wallet, please.”

“That’s awfully nice of you,” the other man was chuckling now, “But we can just take that from you afterwards.”

Afterwards. You felt like you would hyperventilate. The older man came closer to you with his arm outstretched but you pulled out your key and pointed it at him, “Stay the _fuck_ away!” you sounded scared, you knew you did.

The older man looked surprised and he chortled, “G’head, doll,” he egged you on. You suddenly felt a hard shove from behind you and it sent you tumbling forward into the older man’s arms. He grabbed your wrist and flung your keys out of that hand. Then he threw you to the ground. 

“No! No no no!” your loud voice was echoing around the train platform.

“You know,” the other man was now whispering in your ear, “The rain makes it so that your screams are drowned out.” He ran his fingers through your wet hair and tugged. You started to cry.

“HELP!” you wailed with all your remaining voice and kept screaming and making those noises.

“You fucking bitch,” the older man spat and you see him raise his fist, feel immense pain, and everything goes black. 

You were dizzy and cold and your head was throbbing. You were being shaken by someone, and you just wanted this nightmare to end. You don’t know how long you were unconscious for, and you didn’t even want to think about what those men might have done to you while you were out.

“Nnno,” you whimpered, afraid to fully open your eyes and see the perpetrators. 

“Y/N!”

Your eyes shot open when you heard your name being called and there was Arthur, above you, nose badly bloodied and face bruised. What the actual fuck.

“Thank god,” you heard him say and you felt him trying to get you to stand. 

“A-Arthur.”

“Easy,” you heard his gentle voice by your ear as he escorted you down the slippery stairs leading out of the train station. He held you tight and firm, even if you slipped once or twice. The rain was still going, unrelenting. You were so discombobulated and in pain you didn’t even question where he was taking you, you just willed yourself to keep going. When you reached the haunting behemoth of a staircase, you knew where you were going. It was like Arthur was lifting you up the stairs, you felt like your feet were gliding over the steps. 

Suddenly, it was dry, there was lightbulbs giving off their yellow hue. A creaky elevator. You were leaned against Arthur in the elevator, you could pick up on his scent from your face being so close to his chest, and you were shivering. 

You were helped down a hallway and you knew you were entering his home. He was so quiet as he helped you through the dark room, and you were laid onto a couch. 

How could he explain himself? How could he say he helped save her life, but only because he was following her and watching her make it to the subway. Her screams. He didn’t know where he grew sudden balls and sudden strength, but he kicked the fatter one into the subway tracks, the older crony having to help him out of them. This was only, of course, after they both beat Arthur to a pulp practically. 

He flitted about his apartment, shutting the door to his mother’s room carefully after he knew she was asleep already. He turned on a lamp by Y/N’s head. Then he went to get some supplies. 

“Y/N,” Arthur was near you again, “I need you to take off your coat. It’ll just keep you cold and wet.”

You didn’t know what force made you obey, because you were sure your body had stopped working. The jacket was off and then there was a blanket draped around your shoulders. It smelled of moth balls. You pried your eyes open and finally chose to keep them open, trying to stay conscious. 

“Oh, Arthur,” you reached up a hand and touched his cheek. His face looked worse than after his attack from those teens.

The sudden touch to his cheek made him recoil, but only for a split second before he leaned back into it. This kind of physical affection was something he sorely lacked. 

“I’m fine,” he raised a cloth up and touched it to your temple. Now it was your turn to recoil.

“Ah!” your hand went to your head at the same time Arthur’s hand went to cover your mouth. You stared up at him. Somehow you put it together he didn’t want to wake his mother up.

Arthur nodded and he removed his hand from your mouth and continued administering the warm cloth to what was sure to be a gash on your temple. You wouldn’t take your eyes off him as he treated your wounds. 

You started to cry again. But it wasn’t loud and full of sobs. You took in a breath, and the tears started to fall. You could feel the warm streaks slip down your cheeks. You kept taking deep breaths. 

“D-Did they…”

“No,” Arthur answered, “You weren’t…” he didn’t know how to say she wasn’t raped. That word, that thought, of her lying there on the disgusting platform floor. He paused because of a slight choking sound that made its way to his throat. _Oh no. _

You reached for the free hand he had leaned on the couch and held it in your own, squeezing it tight, “Thank you.”

Arthur removed the hand with the cloth in it and he handed you an ice cube wrapped in tissue paper instead, “Ho-Hold this on your cheek. It’ll swell lehehess.”

Arthur quickly drew his hand away from your grip and went down a hall, pressing both of his hands to his mouth. You sat up straighter, holding the cold compress on your cheek, and you watched him duck out of sight. You could’ve sworn you heard him laughing. Maybe that was just your delirium. You wrapped the blanket tighter around yourself and laid back down. 

Arthur returned to the living room two minutes later. He saw the ice cube pouch lying by the side of her head, her eyes shut, her breathing even. He watched her asleep like that for probably longer than what would be considered normal. He searched through his closets and didn’t find another blanket, but a bathroom towel instead. He laid it on top of her and took it upon himself to remove her shoes and lay them next to the couch. Arthur would’ve given her his own clothes so she’d stay dry. But asking her to change…. he didn’t think that was right. 

Arthur sat on the armchair usually taken up by his mother and relaxed in it. He wasn’t going to sleep in the same bed as his mother. Not tonight. Not if Y/N needed something. And he fell asleep in that chair. 

Time passed, and the late night rain turned into early morning pitter patter on the windowsill of Arthur’s apartment. The light blocked by grey after-rain clouds started to filter into the apartment, warming the two wet, beaten bodies in the room. 


	6. Chapter 6

Arthur didn’t get much sleep. He kept waking himself up with concern for you, but also with the fear that his mother would walk in and see a strange woman laying on their couch. When he heard stirring from his mother’s room, that’s when he took action. He went in there and tried to just get her to stay inside the room, but that just concerned her. So, he came clean. 

Penny didn’t want to believe her son was having hallucinations, more than any other problem he had, so she had to see for herself. When she did see the woman lying there, asleep, she looked at her son. 

“Take care of her, will you? And make sure she hasn’t stolen anything from us.”

“Mohom, how could she steal something–”

“Check. And then get her on her way. You did a very selfless thing, Happy,” she cupped her son’s cheeks in her hands briefly, “Selfless but stupid. I hope she knows that.”

“I’ll take care of everything, mom,” Arthur assured his mother as he escorted her back into her bedroom. Then he let out a sigh. He went to his jacket and touched the pocket. His wallet was still there. He shook his head. Steal. The woman was beaten and incapacitated. She was honestly probably more well-off than he was. The usher at Wayne Hall. Only the rich went to that hall. 

She stirred and Arthur redirected all his attention to her. Arthur could see how the bruise on her cheekbone formed into a big blue, swollen blotch overnight. 

“Mmm…” you shifted where you slept, a pain growing in your back from the position you slept in. You yawned and stretched your body from fingertip to toe, exhaling with a yelp when you opened your eyes and saw Arthur standing and watching you.

“Sorry,” he quickly apologized and came closer.

“Jesus… I…” you looked around and held the side of your face, “Fuck…”

Arthur was looking at her with concerned eyes. He was smiling softly, seeing how her hair had matted strangely in her sleep and the sleepy look still hovering in her beautiful eyes. How the shirt she was wearing had stretched and shifted off her shoulder while she slept. 

You rubbed your eyes, so full of mascara and gook from crying and sleeping. God, you needed a shower.

“I don’t know what to say,” you spoke and drew your knees up to your chest, “Thank you, I guess. But how could I ever just say thank you for you risking your fucking life to…” you bit down on your lip and ran your fingers through your hair, “Where’s your bathroom?”

“Through there on the left,” Arthur answered, pointing.

You stood off the bed, your whole body feeling stiff and sore, and you walked to the bathroom. You washed your face as well as you could with water from the sink, massaging it into your eyes and hair and swished some in your mouth before spitting. You got a good look at yourself and felt like crying again. You gripped the edges of the sink. _Too fucking emotional. You’re being too goddamn emotional. Pull it together. You’re in the clown’s freaking bathroom._

You surprised yourself by letting out a laugh, a hand coming to your mouth. You giggled some more, tears lingering in your eyes. 

“Y/N?” there was a knock on the door and Arthur’s voice, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you answered him and rubbed your hands all over your face once more, wincing when you pressed too hard on your swollen cheek. You opened the door and saw him standing there. You wrapped your arms around him and hugged him. It didn’t seem like he saw this coming because you didn’t feel his arms reciprocate immediately. 

“Thank you for everything. I-I’m so sorry for all of this. I’m going to go now.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“No, I can’t ask you to do that. Please. You have a mother to take care of who’s probably gonna be asking who the fuck that gross looking woman on your couch was,” you grinned. You went over to the couch and sat, pulling on your boots from the night before. Then you took your coat and purse and went back to Arthur.

“You’re such a sweet guy, Arthur,” you said to him, “If there’s anything I can ever do for you, or–”

“Have dinner with me sometime?” 

You paused and stared at him wide-eyed. You blinked a few extra times and you chuckled. Your eyes were still watering so you wiped that away best you could, “Yehes. Yes, sure. I will. Just let me know. Goodbye.”

Arthur opened the door for you and you left his apartment. He watched you until you got onto the elevator. You walked home that morning, afraid to even look at a subway station anymore. You kept your head down, but your awareness of your surroundings high. And when you finally got home, you collapsed onto your bed. No no, more sleep can wait, you reminded yourself. You had to shower.

It was strange to clean yourself up after that night. You had a huge cut on your temple from where your head smacked against the ground when the man pushed you, and the bruise from where he punched you. Fucking pigs. Fucking _Gotham_. Where was the GCPD when something like that was happening? Why aren’t they cleaning up the streets? What do they do instead? Terrorize the poor already living on their last leg. Prevent a robbery or two, maybe. You were realizing all of this now, as the shower water sputtered and cascaded over your body. You never had a real problem with Gotham. Minor things. You knew it could be shady. You _knew_ that. But having something this awful almost happen to you, it shook something loose. 

Everyone in this city was ignorant and awful and dirty. You got out of the shower and wrapped your towel around yourself. Except for Arthur. Out of all the men you’d ever met in this city, he was the prize. Yeah, he was awkward, yeah, he was quiet, but hell, this sweet guy was entertaining sick, dying children at a hospital for crying out loud. He made it his job to make people happy. He was a rarity and you didn’t want to let him go. You felt yourself shaking slightly and you were crying again. You needed your medication. 


	7. Chapter 7

You went back to work after the weekend, and all your coworkers were crowding around you to ask what that big bandage was on your forehead. You couldn’t count the number of time you said you slipped coming down the stairs in your apartment building and cracked your head open. No one questioned how the positioning of the cut didn’t exactly match the stair falling story. You were thankful. But part of you also wondered if it was helpful to talk about what really happened to you? Put it out there that you were assaulted. You decided against it every time, at least around your work friends. 

You were able to perform your job as usual for the next week. You no longer saw Arthur on your normal route, figuring he was reassigned after the shop finally did go out of business. Even without seeing him, you still thought about him.

Getting on the train late at night was starting to become routine again after a few days. You just kept yourself vigilant, not allowing your eyes to even flutter from tiredness, no matter how lulling the shaking of the subway car was. The added protection of a switch blade in your purse did also ease your anxiety. But no matter what time of day you were walking to work, you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was following you. So you kept your pace brisk. That was one type of anxiety that needed more help abating.

When a Monday came around after a little over a week, you knew the minute you woke up you were going to have an off-day. Your period came, the cramps were pulsing every now and again, you had an early morning shift, and for fuck’s sake you were thinking about Arthur again. You were thinking about him with his bloodied nose, then about him in his Carnival the Clown getup, then about his face the morning you woke up in his apartment and how–how _soft_ it looked.

_Fuck, you’re lonely and desperate_, you thought to yourself as you rubbed your palms into your eyes and threw yourself out of bed. 

You wound up being a bit crankier than usual at work. Your period pains weren’t alleviated by much, and your meds weren’t controlling your hormones as well as they usually did. It happens. You knew it did. Could be from a slight change in diet to sleep schedule, it’s happened before. 

After work, it was late afternoon and you took the train past your usual stop. You took a walk as the sun was setting over Gotham to Arthur’s apartment building. You stood outside of it for probably a bit too long before you followed a mother and her daughter inside the building. 

“Thanks,” you said with a small smile when she held the door open for you. You went over to the mailboxes and you realized you didn’t know Arthur’s last name. Shit, how were you gonna figure out which apartment he lived in. Well, you remember going up the elevator, so he wasn’t on the first two floors. 

“Excuse me,” you asked the same mother who unknowingly let a complete stranger into the building, “Do you know an Arthur? I’m trying to get to his apartment, but I don’t know the last name.”

She paused, scanning you up and down before pulling her daughter closer to her, “There’s an Arthur on my floor. He lives with his mother. Is that the one?”

“Probably, yeah. Thank you,” you said and then walked to the elevator with the woman and her daughter and another building resident. 

The elevator creaked and made many concerning noises on the bumpy way up to the 4th floor. 

“The other end of the hall,” the woman told you when you got off together. 

“Thank you again. Have a nice day,” you wished her well before heading down the opposite end of the hall. 

You got to a door with the name Fleck written on an insignia above the peephole. Arthur Fleck? Jesus, what a rough last name. You gave three raps on the door and waited. 

You heard two different voices from inside but couldn’t pinpoint what they were saying. Then you heard some unbolting of locks and the door was pulled open to reveal Arthur.

You smiled upon seeing him, also seeing he just got out of the shower because his hair was wet and combed back. He was wearing a tight long-sleeved shirt and very loose sweatpants. You may have been staring at his protruding ribs for a bit longer than normal.

“Oh hey,” was the first thing out of his mouth, and he leaned up against the doorframe. 

“Hi, Arthur. Sorry to just show up like this, I just—” _I’ve been thinking of you every minute of alone time I have._

“I just wanted to come by and ask if you were free this Wednesday night, maybe?”

“Oh–”

“To take you up on your offer. For dinner…” you jumped over his minor exclamation. You were wringing your hands together by your waist, getting nervous. 

Arthur’s eyebrows rose and he looked genuinely surprised. 

“You wanna— with— Yeah!” he said, a smile splitting his face. You saw crooked teeth.

“Yeah?” you found yourself smiling back, “Oh good!”

You both shared a silence and you looked down at his ribs again, then at his knees.

“Do you want to come in, or…?” Arthur pointed behind himself.

“No!” you didn’t mean to say it so forcefully, “No, I’m going to head home. I just— yeah, right,” you dug through your purse and pulled out a bent pad of paper and a pen. You ripped the first page from it and handed it to Arthur. He took it from you.

“You can just come over to my place. That’s the address. I’m gonna cook dinner if you’re okay with that.”

“That sounds perfect,” Arthur said.

That intriguing twinkle was in his eyes again as you looked at him. 

“Happy, who’s that at the door?” a strong voice came from deeper inside the apartment. 

“No one, mom,” Arthur yelled back at her and then looked at you again, “Thank you.”

Thank you for what? You didn’t dwell on it much, the larger thought was why his mom called him Happy. 

“Yeah, sure. I’ll see you Wednesday,” you said and backed out of his doorway before walking back towards the elevator. You paused there and saw him lingering in the doorway to watch you. 

Down was easier than up, so you gave him a wave and walked down the stairs beside the elevator instead. 

The whole trip home you were beating yourself up over how stupid you acted. You were freaking timid! You’ve never been timid one day of your life. And nervous and stuttering…. what the hell was all that? As you kicked off your shoes and hung your purse up in your entryway, you blamed it all on your hormones that day. It felt so dumb and sexist to even say that, but it was the truth. 

You fell asleep that night with your windows open, a chilling breeze from outside making your bed feel all the more cozy. 


	8. Chapter 8

It was date night!

You were excited and for once you didn’t feel much shame over how you felt. It was nice. You did realize the day before that you didn’t even give Arthur a real time to show up, so you didn’t know how to plan the dinner so everything was ready in time. 

You pulled your hair up into a bun and rolled the sleeves of your sweater up and got to cooking. While you were cooking, you were listening to a talk radio channel you frequented, usually because they had funny people on the show. And tonight was a hilarious comedian from another state, and he had you laughing out loud as you prepared dinner. 

You let out a laugh just as you put lamb chops into the pan to start cooking, sizzling as they hit the butter, and you just about missed the knock at your door. You cursed under your breath as hot butter splattered onto your arm when you put in another chop, “Coming!” you yelled as you left your station and went to the door. 

You opened up and there was Arthur, dressed in a button down shirt, vest, and dress pants. It looked like the same thing he wore to Pogo’s. You smiled, “Hi! Come on in, make yourself at home. I just gotta finish up in the kitchen, sorry,” and you went off to watch the potatoes that were probably about to boil over on the stove. 

Arthur chuckled at her erratic nature. He almost didn’t show up, mostly because he kept thinking he dreamt his interaction with Y/N in his doorway. But he pushed himself to come to the written address and now he was very happy he did. He put his shoes neatly next to the other by the door and stepped inside. The smell of the food made his mouth water. And he took a little walk inside her living room, looking at all the pictures she had and what her couch looked like and at the pattern on the rug. Everything. And he liked how everything looked. 

“Can I help with anything?” Arthur asked, approaching you in the kitchen.

“No, I’m fine. I got this under control.”

“You sure?”

You looked over your shoulder at him and smiled, “Actually, can you set the table? Everything’s over there,” you nodded to a spot on your kitchen countertop where you had stacked what needed to go onto the table but never made it. Arthur happily obliged. 

“Wanna hear something funny?” you spoke louder over the radio currently on commercial break, mashing potatoes as you went, “I almost expected you to come in your clown outfit.”

Arthur chuckled, “Why would you expect that?”

“I dunno, my mind is just weird.”

“Well,” Arthur set the forks out at each plate and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a red nose, “I do always have this on me.”

You looked over and laughed pretty loudly, “Oho my god! That’s amazing!” and you set the potatoes aside to finish off your lamb chops in the oven. 

Arthur seemed emboldened by your laugh, so he stuck the nose on and cartoonishly started to walk towards you again. You didn’t pay him much mind, focusing on transferring roasted brussel sprouts into a dish. Then you saw him twirl and take one of your ladles hanging from its place on your kitchen wall, positioning it like a fencing sword in front of him. 

You looked at him like he was a little insane, “Aaaalright, D’Artagnan,” you chuckled and held the dish with the veggie out in front of you, “Can you bring this to the table, please?”

Arthur, or should you say Carnival, saluted you and took the dish from your hands. 

You finished up the rest of the meal and went to join Arthur at the table. He pulled off the red nose before he sat, smiling at you. 

“Thank you for coming,” you told him. You wanted to say thank you again for when he saved your life, but you just didn’t want to bring that up.

“Thanks for the invitation,” and he started filling his plate with food.

You both took your first bites, and Arthur said, “Everything’s delicious.”

“Really? Thanks, I thought I oversalted the potatoes and the lamb was kinda tough–”

“Delicious,” Arthur said again, grinning at your overreaction, “I never eat like this at home.” 

There was another quiet filled by the radio still talking. The comedian was still going, and you snorted into your drink when you were taking a sip, quickly grabbing a napkin to cover your increasingly red face. Arthur looked up.

“Is everything ok?”

“Y-Yeahah… yeah, sorry,” you chuckled, wiping your nose and mouth off, “It’s just.. the radio. You ever listen to this? It’s called Comedic Comedians Nightly. Not a very creative name, I know. But I think you’d like it. They bring on new comedians every night.”

“I haven’t heard of it. I mostly just watch the Murray Franklin show.”

“Oh, you’re a fan?”

“Yeah. Do you like him?”

“Actually, I’ve never really watched his show,” you admitted and Arthur looked shocked and betrayed all at once, which made you laugh again, “I knohow, I know! It’s like a staple for every Gothamite. I just don’t like the whole guest interview stuff, sue me.”

“We can watch him tonight, if you’d like,” Arthur immediately offered, “Just watch the opening bit he does with his standup. You’ll like it.”

You had to smile and you pretended to think about it, “Weeellllll….” you watched his face contort in anticipation of your answer, “Sure, why not.”

Arthur smiled in relief, his whole body relaxing. The two of you continued to eat the dinner you’d prepared. 

“You know what’s weird, ever since that night, I always feel like there’s someone following me whenever I go to work,” very abrupt change of topic, but you just had to talk about your experience. You kept it bottled up ever since it happened.

Arthur tensed up when Y/N mentioned that. He looked right at her. How was he going to say that maybe that feeling was real? How would he admit that he’d been tailing her a few days out of the week, not all of them. He knew it wasn’t all the time. Just a couple times. He knew where she worked, he just wanted to make sure she made it safely. She was the only person in so, so long that treated him like he was a normal human being, that actually _liked_ him. Would she get mad? She wouldn’t want to see you again. _Oh fuck, you’re so fucking stupid, you fucking perverted creep…_

Arthur let out a laugh, and then a hand flew to his mouth. You stared at him, confused. 

“Uhumm.. was that funny?” you asked, a little hurt that he would think your concern was amusing; and you knew he wasn’t laughing at the soup commercial playing from the radio. 

Arthur shook his head and he laughed again, almost doubling over from it. Now it was an almost continuous stream. 

“Arthur?” you grew concerned once you saw him loop a hand around his throat and a choking noise made its way through the laughter. It was strained, definitely. His eyes showed no joy a normal laugh would produce. He kept shaking his head and he held out an arm to stop you when you made the move to stand up, the other one digging through his pockets. 

The laugh died down to chuckles and Arthur kept trying to clear his throat as he finally pulled out, with shaking hands, a white card. 

“I-I’m sohoaha— sorry, hehehe…”

He extended his hand to you with the card in it, and you reached across the table and took it.

_Forgive my laughter. I have a condition. (more on back)_

You looked up at Arthur, mouth agape. But you turned the card over as he had to ride out the last of his laughs. When you finished reading the card, he’d stopped laughing. He looked disgraced, like a kicked puppy; his head hung low, eyes not wanting to meet yours.

“Arthur, I… I didn’t know, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Please. You didn’t do anything.”

“You live with this? Every day?” you couldn’t believe this was a real mental issue and that someone so kind had to experience this on a daily basis. 

Arthur nodded his head in response. 

“Is it painful?”

Arthur looked up at you for the first time since his outburst and he nodded once more. You frowned and looked at the card in your hands. You just noticed it says to return it after reading. He gives this card to people as an excuse for something completely out of his control. The brain injury part of the card also concerned you. It sickened you, thinking of the ways people must treat him out in public if this happened out of nowhere. 

“Are you okay now? Do you need anything?” you stood up anyway, ready to get him something. 

“No,” Arthur said.

You sighed and handed his card back to him. 

“I’m better now. It passes.”

You went into the kitchen and filled a glass with water and brought it back to him. 

“Thank you,” he took the glass from you, his fingers brushing over the back of your hand as he took it. You nodded and sat back down, appetite still there but diminished. Even Arthur kept eating after he drank the water. The two of you were full eventually, and that’s when you started clearing the plates. Arthur stood and helped you put the dishes into the sink. 

“Don’t feel bad for me,” Arthur said when he was right beside you by the sink. 

You looked up at him and said, “Well, I do. I feel bad that you have to live with this horrible… thing! Is there anything I can do? Is there like a procedure I can follow if you have another outburst to kind of lessen it, or…?”

Arthur had never heard someone act so concerned about his condition before this moment. Not even his own mother ever offered to comfort him if he was going through an attack. 

“I don’t think so— no one’s ever tried,” he answered honestly. 

You felt worse for him and you gently placed a hand on his chest, “I’ll figure something out, then. To help,” and you brushed the material of his vest with your thumb before you took a breath and said, “I’ll be right back,” and you headed off to your bathroom. 

It was medication time, so you opened your medicine cabinet and took the medicine collectively, washing them down with some sink water cupped in your hand. You took an extra three or four minutes to yourself in the bathroom, taking deep breaths and trying to center yourself. Arthur probably didn’t want to talk about his condition and by you bringing it up, it was making him uncomfortable. Don’t be so insensitive. Be playful with him. It seemed he liked it earlier when you were loose and letting him be himself. 

You exited the bathroom and heard running water, so you went back to the kitchen, seeing Arthur busy washing the dishes. _What a sweetheart_, you almost squealed. Instead you walked as close to him as possible without him noticing you from behind and said, “Did I say you could wash the dishes?”

Arthur jumped and spun around, one sudsy hand splashing some water on your shirt, “Sorry, sorry, I was just trying to help..”

You chuckled and took the plate from his hand and then the sponge from the other, “You did. Thank you so much. Make yourself comfortable in the living room, I’ll be there in a sec,” you flicked your now wet fingers in his direction as retaliation for him getting your sweater wet. He winced when some water hit his face and you laughed softly. 

Arthur smiled and he felt his heart was about to burst. Her cadence was so gentle, so playful, and it made him not want to ever stop looking at her smiling face. 

“You really do have a great laugh,” he complimented, leaning against the counter beside the sink.

“Yes, you’ve told me that,” you blushed, ducking your head so your focus remained on the dishes. 

“It’s true though. It’s one of the most attractive things I’ve ever heard.”

“Aharthur…” you said in a tone of warning, but your blushing cheeks and smile betrayed that sentiment. Fitting for a clown and coincidentally a guy who suffers from a laughing condition to say that he finds laughs attractive. 

“You’re distracting me,” you said softly, grinning when you glanced up at him. 

“Heh,” Arthur smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked at a clock on the wall and said, “I’ll go get your TV ready. Murray’s almost on.”

“Sure, I’ll be right there,” you smiled back at Arthur. You let out a breath when he left the kitchen, still smiling goofily. He was certainly getting better at flirting.

You finished the dishes and dried your hands on a dish towel before running over to the couch when you heard the opening theme. You folded your legs under you and got comfy on one side of the couch, Arthur sitting upright at the other. He draped an arm over the back of the couch. 

“You know, if you still don’t like Murray after tonight, I don’t see how we can get along anymore,” Arthur said, clearly making a joke.

You chuckled and prodded his thigh with your socked foot, “We’ll just have to watch the show and see, then, won’t we?”

You both settled in to watch the show, and Murray Franklin came out to a raucous applause from his live audience. Arthur seemed in his own world by this point, you could tell just by looking at him. His eyes sort of glossed over and his smile softened. You heard the audience make its first laugh of the night and you realized you were watching Arthur more than you were watching the show.

The jokes he made were very family friendly. A lot of them relied on puns. Arthur was chuckling happily to himself, and you really didn’t find Murray Franklin’s work very funny. A few times he made you smile, but that was the extent of it. 

Arthur seemed to be knocked out of his reverie and noticed when you wouldn’t laugh at a joke the studio audience went crazy for. 

He started to doubt himself. Well, he was certainly joking before about not getting along with her. But… Murray is a part of who he is. He grew up with him on the television screen being admired and loved by so many people. He was the male voice in the household when there was no other one besides his own. Arthur rifled through his jacket pocket until he pulled out a cigarette and a lighter. He stuck one in his mouth and looked at you, “May I?”

You looked over and nodded, “Yeah, go ahead. I don’t mind.”

Arthur took his first puff and he visibly tried to relax. You were on him more than on the show at this point. You could tell he was hitting the cigarette in more than a leisurely way. 

The show moved into its interview segment, and you were interested because you knew the first guest on the show.

“Crazy how he films this right here in the city, huh?” you said. 

“Yeah, well, he’s a very down to earth guy,” Arthur contended, “He belongs to the people.”

Interesting way of saying that, for sure. You watched Arthur lean forward and put out his cigarette butt in the ashtray on your coffee table. When he leaned back, his legs both started to visibly shake. Oh god, he was getting anxious again.

“You okay?” you leaned over to his side of the couch and rested a hand on his bouncing thigh. He looked at you so suddenly his hair whipped around.

“You aren’t enjoying yourself…”

“Says who?” you ask, indignantly. 

“Well, you’re not liking the show.”

“Whoho cares?” you smiled at Arthur, adding pressure to your hand on his thigh because it was still bouncing away, “But you like him, and that’s what matters. If you’re enjoying yourself, good. Don’t be so concerned about me.”

Arthur soon stopped his shaking and looked right at you. 

“Look, they’re back from commercial break,” you scooted closer to Arthur and kept your eyes on the screen, “I like the actress he’s interviewing.”

Arthur was still looking at you. His arm that was draped over the back of the couch grew stiff when you nestled into him snugly. 

You chuckled a few times at the quips that were being made between actress and host. 

“I wanted to be an actress when I was younger,” you said, still mostly looking at the television screen.

“You did?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah.”

“What happened?”

“I grew up,” you grinned, a little sad, “It’s too cutthroat of an environment, and that career path was not that stable. But that’s also partially why I work at a theater. Get it?” you moved your hand back onto Arthur’s thigh, toying with a piece of bunched up fabric, “I hope you have better luck being a comedian than I did trying to be an actress, Arthur. I really do. You have a great comedic idol to look up to,” you pointed at the screen. 

Arthur didn’t want to let it show but every time she touched him, it sent shivers up his spine. Affection wasn’t a much-utilized word in his vocabulary. But here she was, _touching_ him so willingly. 

“I think you would’ve been a great actress. I would’ve watched your films,” Arthur said, his voice coming out softer than usual. 

“You’re sweet,” you smiled and looked up at him. At that moment, the both of you talking, your noses almost touched. You stayed wrapped up in each other’s gaze for a bit longer, and your lips parted. But then you smiled and pulled away slightly. _Why’d you do that!?_

“Sorry,” you and Arthur both whispered at the same time, making you each smile bashfully. 

You turned back to the television, but you did notice a small tent growing in Arthur’s pants, making you blush hard. You could still feel his eyes on you. 

_“And always remember… that’s life!”_ and the blaring horns of the studio band played, bring you and Arthur back to a reality that you both seemed to have left.

“I like the Murray Franklin show. You converted me,” you smiled at Arthur and stood to switch channels on the television. 

“Oh, good,” Arthur chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. He stood up as well. Well, he might as well use the bathroom while he was up. She probably was going to kick him out soon enough. He turned and went into the next room for the bathroom.

Sirens blared on the outside, also drawing you depressingly back down into the reality that was Gotham City. You had the news on and plopped back down on your couch. 

Arthur relieved himself and washed his hands, looking at himself in the mirror. He felt like being nosy and pulled back the mirror that was also Y/N’s medicine cabinet. He saw the usual things like deodorant, her toothbrush, toothpaste… and then he saw the familiar orange pill bottles. He lifted each of them up, reading what they were. Arthur smiled and sighed from happiness. She got it. She’d understand and wouldn’t ask questions about his antidepressants or his mood suppressers. They even got their prescriptions from the same pharmacy. Arthur put everything back where he found it and left the bathroom.

“It’s getting late,” he said when he saw you sitting on the couch still. 

“Yeah, um, are you gonna be okay going home this late?”

“I’ll be fine,” he smiled at you.

You stood up, “I had a great night, Arthur. Thank you for coming. I want to do this again.”

Arthur smiled, “Me too. I would do this every night if we could.”

You smiled back at him at that sweet comment, “Do you maybe, um, want my phone number?”

“Yeah, sure!” Arthur seemed like he let out a held-in breath when he accepted that offer.

You giggled and walked to the hall where you had a pencil and a pad of paper always, and you wrote your name and your phone number, “This way we can coordinate better. Instead of me, like, coming to your house out of nowhere,” you chuckled.

“If you did that more often, it would be a relief, trust me,” Arthur smiled at you and took the note. 

Your cheeks flushed for what felt like the millionth time that night and you smiled, “Well, goodnight. I do want to see you soon.”

“I do, too,” Arthur said in return.

And you were both at the front door and left it at that. You shared smiles and you reached across Arthur, opening the door for him. He left, still turning to look back at you, which made you chuckle. 

When you were alone in your apartment again, you took a few quick breaths and couldn’t stop smiling. You _liked_ him. Really liked him. And he seemed to really like you! You changed into your pajamas and flopped into your bed. 

“Hey, Y/N!”

Hearing such a distant shout and hearing your name made you jump from your bed and go to the open window by your bedside. You wrenched it open more and stuck your head out. Down five stories below was Arthur, red nose on, and waving.

You laughed and waved back.

He did a little jig and spun around a few times before skipping down the street. You laughed some more, watching him go. He was nuts! But maybe that’s why you liked him. You would mark this first date down as successful, in your books. 


	9. Chapter 9

You thought your date went well. You kept repeating that thought to yourself. So as the days went on, how come Arthur didn’t call you? He said he would, didn’t he? He said he would even want to see you more often! Then why haven’t you received any messages from him, days after your get together? You tried not to think about it too much, but the thought still lingered, especially when you’d get home and not see any voicemails left for you. 

It was Saturday and you had no plans. You went to work in the morning and picked up groceries before coming home. At night, you sat down with a bowl of popcorn in your lap and watched the television. 

There was suddenly a harsh banging at your door that made you jump. You set your popcorn aside and lowered the TV volume. Then the knocking came again, a little more forceful. But there was no voice that accompanied the knock. You were apprehensive as you stood up and went to the door, pulling out the wooden bat you kept by your umbrella stand next to the door. You held the bat at the ready.

The knocking hadn’t sounded since that second time. You unlocked your door slowly and pulled it open a crack before a body barreled through your door and practically fell into your arms. 

“Arthur!?” you exclaimed in surprise, dropping the bat to the floor as he put nearly all of his weight on you, holding you. You were nervous as hell. 

He was clammy, he was freezing, he was breathing hard. You pushed him off of you long enough to look at his face. Clown makeup was still intact, but there was a swollen red lump by his cheekbone and blood had dripped down to his chin from his nose. 

“Fuck,” you cursed under your breath and helped him inside your apartment. His heavy breathing worried you the most at the moment, “A-Arthur, you— come here,” you led him to your bathroom and helped set him down onto your toilet lid. You then tore the shower curtains back and started running warm water into your tub. 

“Get out of these clothes,” you urged him, looking at his still unspeaking form, “Please, Arthur, you have to listen to me. You’re going to be in so much pain if we don’t soak you in hot water, you-you could get sick, I don’t want you getting sick— thank you,” you said softer and less frantic when he started unbuttoning his vest. You went out of the bathroom and into your bedroom closet to retrieve some towels, then into your kitchen to get your small step stool and a plastic container you kept and cleaned after getting takeout one night.

When you rushed back into the bathroom, the water had stopped running, a pile of clothes was at one end of your bathroom by the sink, and Arthur was sitting in your tub, curled up, knees pressed to his chest with his arms wrapped around them. 

You set the towels down on the edge of the sink, placed your stool beside the tub, and you sat on it. You looked at Arthur, happy to see the water got hot enough to be producing some steam. You looked at Arthur’s bare back and almost gagged. He was so skinny, so bruised and battered. You could tell which were fresh and which were old and fading. You could see every ripple in his skin where muscles met bone. 

Without a single word spoken, you took your cup and gathered water from the tub and gently ladled it over Arthur’s back. You saw him twitch, but you kept at it, using your hand to gently rub his back. His posture loosened as this went on and his knees dropped slightly from their scrunched up position by his chest. 

You took your wet hands and stroked your fingers from Arthur’s temple all the way to the back of his neck, combing through his hair. This sent a shiver down Arthur’s spine. He hadn’t been moving much at all until you continued those gentle movements. He lifted his head back and looked up at you. 

This was the first time you really got a good look at his face and you bit your lip, wanting to hold back any visible sadness that made its way to your lips and the hot tears prickling at your eyes. His clown makeup had started to almost melt off his face from the steam in the bathroom mixed with the water that had gotten close to his face, dripping from your hands in his hair. It was mixing with the caked blood on his face. His eyes. Oh, his _eyes_. They didn’t contain that intriguing twinkle you loved. They seemed hollowed out, but filled with so much more… purpose? Was that even the word? They appeared almost sinister, like his hazel green eyes morphed into a darker hue, but only in projected power, not color. They were mesmerizing. 

He looked down at his knees again and his shoulders shook. You placed a hand on his back, thinking he was crying. But then that laugh pierced the quiet air. It was as if the city had also gone quiet, no car horns, no sirens, no yelling from street corners. But that exclamation shook everything back into reality. He laughed loud and hard. 

You leaned forward and wrapped your arms tightly around his shoulders, your chin resting atop his head. You had started to cry, but the crying was just tears falling from your eyes and you couldn’t stop it. Your fingers began carding through his long brown hair again, wanting to soothe him. You wanted to take away his pains, his ailments. Whatever happened tonight to him, you wanted whoever did it to pay. You wished to see him dancing on the street corner with his big goofy shoes and his goofy red nose and smiling at you. 

His laughing ranged from deranged cackling, to wheezing, to giggles, to out of breath choking noises, and finally down to taking deep, shuddering breaths and soft chuckles. 

Even when his fit finished, you were still holding him and twirling the ends of his hair around your fingers. You were also pretty certain your tears had made his hair wetter than from the bath water by this point. Arthur shifted slightly and you finally released him. He looked up at you. You didn’t know what he’d do, but you looked right back at him, leaning forward on your forearms. 

Arthur reached his hands up out of the water and he rested each of his thumbs at the corners of your mouth. Then he pressed them in and pulled them up as high as they would go, giving you a soft smile of his own while he was doing this. You had basically frozen by this point, fresh tears still leaking from your eyes as you stared at him, your mouth upturned into a deranged smile due to Arthur’s fingers. He released the corners of your mouth and they snapped back into the frown you had since he fell through your door. 

Then the water sloshed, Arthur leaned up out of the tub, cupping your cheeks in his hands, and he kissed you. You shut your eyes and kissed back, your tears mixing with his melting makeup. He kissed you and kissed you, more than twice for sure, but you were astonished at how gentle his kisses were, how carefully he held your cheeks. You were precious to him. 

You were in a type of euphoria while he kissed you, and then opened your eyes and looked at him when he stopped. Your faces were still inches apart. His thumb caressed your cheek and you felt it flush. 

Arthur then lowered himself back into the tub and started to rinse the rest of himself off, rubbing hard at his face to take the rest of the makeup off. 

You wiped a hand over your mouth where he had deposited some white paint and then wiped your eyes, sniffling. You stood up and got one of the towels from the edge of the sink, glancing down at Arthur’s clothes in their pile on the floor. You saw what was unmistakably a gun peeking out from beneath his pants and your heart dropped. What was he doing with a gun? It was Gotham, for fuck’s sake, probably anyone who was smart carried one for protection… and here Arthur was beaten again, but a gun in his pockets. 

“Y/N.”

You spun around and saw Arthur stark naked, standing in the tub, water dripping from every inch of him. Your face flushed red again and your breath hitched, but you stepped forward and handed him the towel, looking directly into his eyes. 

“Thank you.”

You nodded and left the bathroom again to get him something to wear. He was small enough to fit into any of your clothes, truthfully. But you brought him back a pair of sweatpants and a large sweater. He was using a second towel to wipe his face dry when you reentered. You set the clothes down by the edge of the tub before leaning down to drain the water. You leaned against the doorway a few extra seconds before stepping away and going to your living room. 

You sat in silence for the time being, replaying everything that just happened in your head. You heard your bathroom door open and you turned your head to see Arthur walk back in. He genuinely looked adorable in your clothes. They were all too baggy for his small frame, but also too short in places like the sleeves and the pant legs. 

Arthur went next to you on the couch and immediately laid down, resting his head on your lap. You could feel his still damp hair against your pants.

“I did a bad thing tonight,” Arthur spoke, “But… I don’t think I feel bad about it.”

The gun. You swallowed the lump in your throat, hand shaking slightly as you resumed playing with Arthur’s hair. 

“Stay with me tonight,” you practically whispered, looking down at Arthur’s turned head on your lap. You scratched at his scalp and he shivered again. He nodded. 

You adjusted how you were sitting on the couch so you were in a more comfortable position while also allowing Arthur to comfortably keep his head on your lap. You shut your eyes and kept touching his hair. It was so soft. You didn’t know when you fell asleep, but you knew you fell asleep with your fingers entangled in Arthur’s brown locks. 


	10. Chapter 10

Those thoughts and emotions and events from last night somehow really took a toll on you, and you slept soundly through the night. Not a dream was in your thoughts and you didn’t even semi-wakeup in the middle of the night either. It was complete nothingness from falling asleep on the couch to waking to the morning light. 

The light filtered in through your slitted blinds and you were forced to blink your eyes open. You immediately put your hands to your eyes, rubbing crud out of them. You let out a big yawn and tried to roll over onto your side, but you couldn’t because weight was still applied to them. You managed to crack your eyes open again to see Arthur staring right at you. Your heart jumped more from being startled by being watched than from recollecting last night’s intimacy; at least you told yourself that.

“Morning,” you said in a groggy, croaky just-waking-up voice, “How’re you feeling?”

“Never better,” he answered with what came off as a sly smile.

You looked at him where his head hovered above your midsection, and it was at this point you realized your legs were very, very numb. They were all tingly when you wiggled a toe. 

You shifted as much as you could with Arthur’s legs mostly on top of yours and his waist leaning against your hips on your couch. Your hands rubbed your eyes again, not wanting to see what this day brought. You wanted to stay asleep in that blissful anti-place you were in. 

Arthur seemed to read your growing discomfort because he moved his body off of your laid out one, and you were able to pull your legs into yourself. 

“Ow,” you mumbled and started rubbing and massaging the fuzzy feeling out of your legs and feet. 

“Sorry,” Arthur said, “You were very… comfy.”

You huffed and a grin found its way to your lips. When you rubbed that awful feeling out of them as much as you could, you looked back at Arthur sitting opposite you on your couch. There was more silence. The city even seemed quieter this morning, like a widespread change was made as the sun rose. You stared at him and then ran your fingers through your hair, pushing it out of your face. 

“Arthur,” you began, the unknown eating away at you so much you had to ask, “What… What happened yesterday?”

Arthur didn’t break eye contact with you with that steely stare of his. You swallowed, your throat dry. 

Arthur giggled and he hung his head. You were worried he’d start a laughing fit. He didn’t. But he also didn’t give you an answer. 

“Arthur, if something happened, I’d rather hear it from you than from the 9 o’clock news,” you put on a bit sterner of a tone, but still showed your concern. 

He looked back at you and he ran a hand over his face, sighing, “My meds… haven’t been working like they used to. I got fired yesterday. I got–I got terrorized on the train yesterday and–ahand,” he put a hand over his mouth as he started to laugh. 

Your brows could not have been more furrowed and as your chin rested atop your knees as you listened to him. Meds? Fired? For what? He was the most lovable clown out of all the creepy ass clowns. 

When Arthur calmed after this fit (it was over fast), he stared at the forgotten bowl of popcorn still on your coffee table from last night and said, “I got out of there.”

You scratched above your eyebrow and nodded, “You-You said last night you did a bad thing. What was that bad thing?” you could feel your heart beginning to race. Would Arthur hurt you? Was he dangerous? The gun was still in the bathroom…. wasn’t it?

Arthur smiled at you, teeth and all. He shifted closer to you on the couch and looked at you again, that old, puppy dog look in his eyes and face. You stared back at him. 

“I finally feel seen,” he whispered, “Being here, being with you… you make me feel like I actually exist and I’ve never felt that before. You notice me, you _touch _me…” he glanced down, clearing his throat, “Other people are gonna noticing me, too.”

You didn’t know what this all meant. But you were moved. He had you hooked. You reached over and placed your hand over his, squeezing it gently. 

“You’re real, Arthur. You matter,” you were gonna end it there but then another one burst through, “You matter to me.”

Arthur smiled shyly and out of relief. He looked down at your hand on top of his and then looked back at you. He started to lean in. 

“I have to go to work,” you said softly, moving your head away from his approaching one. Arthur stopped dead in his tracks and his eyes nervously flitted about your face, looking for the hint of a joke he thought he was missing. 

“R-Right.”

You stood up and in one swift motion also dragged your sleeve across your eyes, not wanting him to see you crying again. 

“Umm,” you cleared your throat as you moved toward your bathroom, making sure not to face him, “You-You can, um… your clothes are still in here,” you pointed. 

Arthur was still perched on the couch, leaning in with the same intensity as if your lips were still inches away from his. 

You went into the bathroom and gathered up his dirty clothes from last night, throwing each article neatly over your arm. When you got to his pants, you felt around for the gun you saw last night, but it wasn’t there. You felt through all of those pieces of clothing, and still, nothing. You stood there for an extra few seconds. You imagined the gun. You had to. It was just your paranoid mind from last night picturing this horrible act, this horrible weapon. With a sigh of relief, and an immediately lighter attitude, you went back to Arthur in the living room. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t wash them for you, they’re probably still–”

“Thank you,” Arthur stood and took the clothing from you.

“Take your time, Arthur. I’m just going to shower.”

He nodded, watching you go. Oh god, it was like he wanted to follow you in. That feeling of his yearning was so visceral even you could secondhandedly feel it. 

It felt good to shower after last night and this morning. Arthur was keeping secrets, it was obvious. He didn’t answer your question about the “bad thing” he supposedly did and, better yet, didn’t feel bad for. But what was also sticking with you was his talking about his being noticed. That scared you. It led you to believe maybe the reason for his meds that weren’t doing their job. Depression, even suicidal thoughts. His personality certainly didn’t align to society’s standards, either. _Why didn’t you let him kiss you?_

You let the water from your faucet stream right onto your face. Last night felt like a whirlwind and Arthur kissed you. You know you didn’t dream it. Lovingly and tenderly, and it was wonderful. So why this morning were you so off-put? 

You let out an exasperated sign and groan to let off some emotion, all stemming from your thoughts. 

You finished showering and got out, wrapping a towel around your body and a smaller one around your wet hair. Then you brushed your teeth. When you finished, you walked back out, semi-hoping Arthur had already let himself leave and semi-hoping he’d see you half-naked and ravage you with those same kisses from last night. _God, you’re pathetic._

Arthur was there, changed into the old clown clothes, tying his shoes up. He neatly folded your sweater and sweatpants you let him borrow. 

Arthur looked up when he knew she’d come out of the bathroom and his eyes were drawn right to her bare shoulders and collarbone, still glistening from residual shower water. His eyes drifted downward and he could see she had a scar running along the inside of her right leg by her calf. Then he looked back up at her face. Time had stopped just to allow Arthur to look at her like this. She was perfect. But she hated him. She knew exactly what happened, how could she not? It was so obvious. The horrible thing he’d done. But ohhhh, that horrible thing felt _so_ good. 

You had really only glanced at Arthur from your small trip from the bathroom to your bedroom, but seeing him in that small window sent your thoughts running wild again. You shut the door behind you as you gathered yourself and your work clothes together. He knocked on your door as you were buttoning up your shirt. 

You finished and opened the door. He seemed taller than you in this moment, when he usually wasn’t that far above you. 

“I’m going to go now.”

You nodded, “Okay,” and that was going to be it until, “Arthur, I’m sorry about you getting fired. You don’t deserve that. And I’m sorry about what happened to you last night. You can’t seem to get away from that shit around here.”

“Well, the one good thing about Hoyt firing me is I get to perform my standup at comedy clubs,” Arthur smiled brightly, “I’ll invite you when I’m having a show.”

“O-Oh, yeah. Okay,” you nodded, “Yeah, just let me know.”

Arthur nodded and he looked like he wanted to hug you, but he didn’t know how to go in for the hug. 

For the first time that morning, you genuinely smiled at Arthur and wrapped your arms around his thin waist, hugging tight. In that moment, you felt you were back at your first date in your apartment. He was sweet again. Whatever suspicion you had of him earlier that morning melted away like his clown makeup in the tub last night. Clean slate. 

“Bye,” you said to him when you let go. He gave you a fleeting smile before heading out. You heard the door close and that’s when you resumed getting ready for work. 

It was going to be a long day. 


	11. Chapter 11

You found out the moment you got to work what had happened last night that the whole city seemed to be talking about. It wasn’t your usual robbery or murder in the shadier parts of the city that normally were like that. As you slipped on your usher uniform in the break room, the TV was playing a news report about three Wall Street guys who were gunned down on an uptown heading downtown train last night. Your heart dropped when you heard the mention of the gun and three men being killed. But why would Arthur be uptown? Nothing you knew about his work or his life signaled he’d be coming from uptown. This made you relax, it couldn’t have been him. Plus, you already clarified you imagined the gun. 

When they showed a picture of the three men who were killed, you almost laughed. They all looked identical to you. Three douchebag-looking white boys working for Wayne Enterprises. Just by looking at them, you could see why this attack garnered so much attention from the masses. Black men were gunned down every other hour and weren’t getting this much attention. Thomas Wayne himself was conducting an interview on the news channel. He called the killer a coward for hiding behind a mask and then insisted those Gothamites siding with the killer were all clowns. The report made you angry, so you adjusted your bowtie in the mirror hanging from your locker door. 

That’s when you heard the specific phrase “clown mask” and looked back at the TV screen. 

“Can you believe this shit? Now there’s a fucking movement all because one bozo put on a mask and killed those guys,” a coworker of yours was saying to another one, “If he was wearing a baby mask, we’d have mobs of people wearing diapers.”

The two of them laughed together. 

You stiffened as you kept watching the TV. Okay, okay, calm down. Arthur never wore a mask, he always had his makeup on. And makeup is pretty easy to tell apart from a cheap mask. That thought made you calm down again. Arthur didn’t line up with this story. The news story didn’t have any real witnesses. No one said these guys were beating up the clown-masked guy before he shot them. 

As the day went on and you greeted your theater patrons as usual. But you couldn’t help but keep thinking about how big this story blew up just overnight. Highly-esteemed, well-bred white men gunned down in a dingy subway car. Poor, starving, dirty Gotham masses take this clown-mask thing as a symbol and start chanting “eat the rich.” You couldn’t blame them. Especially with all the speculation around Thomas Wayne running for mayor. You worked at Wayne Hall, for Christ’s sake. You knew there would be danger coming your way whether you liked it or not. But hey, even though you worked at this esteemed theater and were well-off yourself, you had to side with the growing number of protestors. This city was going to shit. And it was because of corruption and the government not giving a shit if their city was wailing and suffering right under their noses. 

Your shift wrapped up and you felt tired as you left the building. It was drizzling out, and you didn’t pack an umbrella before you left this morning. 

You made sure you moved as quickly as you could. With virtually no problems, you made it home safe, just a bit damp. Time for some wine before dinner.

~~

A few days passed and nothing eventful happened. You went out to lunch with a friend of yours on Wednesday. You won $50 on a lottery ticket on Thursday. But you did notice the city was getting crazier. All because of those subway murders, protests were sparking wherever wealthy bigots were hosting dinner parties, or political campaigns. It was quite something to go to work and see four other people wearing clown masks. It reminded you of seeing Arthur on the train for the first time. But even when people would wear clown makeup instead of the mask, the artistry was never as good as Arthur’s. You wondered how he felt about all this. Hell, it was probably good for business. Well… maybe not anymore since he lost his job. 

You got a phone call Friday afternoon, and you picked up.

“Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi, Arthur,” you smiled softly. You hadn’t heard from him in a few days.

“How’re you?”

“I’m doing fine. What about you?”

“I’m great. Um, listen, I’m booked at Pogo’s for tomorrow night. Do you-Do you think you could come?”

You responded, “Yeah, I’m free. I’ll go.”

“Yeahah?” he sounded exceedingly happy over the phone, “Great! That’s great. They haven’t told me what time I’m up yet, but I’ll let you know.”

“Sounds good.”

“Okay. Well… see ya.”

“Bye.”

You hung up. You were excited, and you really shouldn’t have been _that_ excited. But you knew you liked supporting Arthur. You could see him in his element, and you were sure he’d do great. 


	12. Chapter 12

When Saturday night arrived, you realized just how much you wanted booze in you. You got to Pogo’s in the middle of a comedian’s set and went straight to the bar, getting yourself a Long Island to get the night started. You didn’t really know how it worked in here when you were friends with a standup. Was Arthur going to meet you at a table and then go up? Would you not see him at all? You’d have to find out.

You sat at the back corner of the club, still a good view of the stage. You were picking on the small bowl of nuts that were already on the table.

These comedians were pretty funny this night, which you kept thinking was good for when Arthur came out, as the audience would be warmed up. You ordered a rum and coke when the Long Island was finished. 

“Our next comedian says he’s very excited to be performing for you all tonight. And his mom always told him his purpose was to spread joy and laughter. Um… okay,” that got a laugh from the emcee introducing Arthur. You were nervous now, “Please welcome to the stage, Arthur Fleck.”

You clapped and cheered when he headed towards the stage, and it was the first time you saw him that night. He looked cute; a maroon vest and pants and a cream colored shirt. 

As Arthur looked around after the welcome applause died down, he got quiet for a moment. Then there was a breathy, “Hello,” into the microphone. 

You watched him eagerly, bouncing your leg under the table. 

There was more silence and then he opened his mouth to tell a joke, but instead, a piercing laugh came out. His hand shot over his mouth. You felt mortified. _Oh no, not here, not now. _

This went on for an excruciatingly long time. He’d try to start his joke but would immediately fall apart in nervous laughter. The audience was chuckling with him at first, not quite sure knowing if this was part of his act. 

You squeezed your hands together tightly as your eyes were glued to him on that stage, almost praying if you believed in any of that stuff. 

Finally after what seemed like an eternity, he got his first joke out. It got a smattering of a chuckle from various audience members. You were too nervous for him to even laugh at all. That first joke was not very good. Alright, focus, you were boozed up, of course you could laugh at shitty jokes if you wanted to. You drank faster. 

The next few jokes were mostly lame, but you made sure he heard your giggle over the largely encroaching silence. He had his joke book with him. God, you wanted to read everything in there and piece together how his comedic mind worked. He did tell some pretty good jokes and he gained confidence as his set went on, but the audience was not very receptive. When Arthur finished, you clapped and whooped for him as he exited the stage. Yep, you were feeling tipsy after you’d finished your two drinks. You stood and went to the bar, getting two shots for yourself and Arthur when he came out. 

You saw him sheepishly peek his head out of the door leading to the roundabout way to get to the tiny stage, and you could see his eyes searching for you. You waved your hand and he caught sight of you, a smile instantly appearing on his face. 

“I’m so happy you came–”

“You were great!” you threw your arms around him and hugged him, “Seriously, you did really well,” your hand touched his cheek as you smiled at him, “Here,” you then slid him the shot, “Cheers.”

“Oh, I don’t really drink…”

“Come on, just one shot. It’s vodka. You won’t even feel anything,” you raised yours in the air, raising a brow at him. 

Arthur looked nervous but he chuckled and gave in, taking the shot with you. He drank his much slower than how you downed yours. You shook your head afterward and giggled, “See, that wasn’t so bad.”

“I-I guess not,” Arthur coughed, making a face. That made you laugh more. God, you were feeling good. 

“You wanna get outta here?” you asked Arthur.

Arthur nodded. You didn’t say any more and you left Pogo’s with him. 

“How do you think it went?” you asked him once you were out in the street. Arthur was busy lighting up a cigarette.

“Oh, um.. well, I don’t know. I kinda blanked out in the second half. I liked all the jokes I told.”

“You should be proud. Even if it didn’t seem like you got a big response, I could tell people liked it,” you didn’t know how far you should go when exaggerating the truth to Arthur. He wasn’t dumb. He knew there were some duds. If he were doing this professionally, the technical term for what happened to him on stage was he bombed. 

“Thanks,” Arthur said to you, looking at you with adoration. 

“You in the mood for a burger? Cuz I think I want a burger,” you said to him as you walked side-by-side. Your hands knocked together a few times and you decided to make the move and hold his hand as you walked. Arthur blushed. You saw it even under the flickering, dim streetlights. That made you smile. He was back. No more silent, brooding, dark-eyed whacko from a few nights ago who forced a smile onto your face with his fingers and kissed you like you’d never been kissed before. Well… maybe you missed some parts of that Arthur. 

You walked along with Arthur until he stopped at a newspaper stand. The front cover was of what looked like a killer clown face with sharp teeth and angry brows. You looked at Arthur more than you looked at the picture. He mimicked the face the clown was making. Odd. 

“How’d the story make you feel?” you asked him, stuffing your hands into your pockets.

“I don’t know,” Arthur responded.

“Me personally,” you leaned closer to Arthur so really only he could hear, “I just think that’s three less pricks in Gotham,” you nudged him gently and headed toward the street to cross it. 

Arthur watched her keep walking and he smiled, chuckling a little. She got it. 

He hurried to follow her to a small dive burger and fries joint. 

The two of you had dinner together, and it all went really well. The food you were intaking was helping abate your tipsy state. Arthur offered to take you home when you’d both finished up. Maybe it was a bit obvious to him you weren’t exactly sober. You accepted his offer. 

On the train, you leaned your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes, feeling drowsy as the train car rattled and shook. Arthur felt happy. Things were looking up for him, he could feel it. 

When it was your stop, Arthur shook you awake and helped you back out onto the street. 

You got to your apartment building and reached into your purse for your keys. You pulled them out but immediately dropped them onto the floor. Both you and Arthur made the move to pick them up and your hands went to the ground at the same time, heads bonking together. You both reacted and you laughed.

“Sorry, sorry,” Arthur chuckled, seeing you rub your head while still giggling. 

“It’s okahay,” you let him get your keys and hand them to you, “Do you wanna come up? I can make tea or coffee…” you were hoping he’d say yes. You didn’t want this high to come down. 

Arthur looked at you and then he glanced at his watch. He finally nodded, “Sure, that sounds good.”

“Great,” you smiled and led him upstairs. Not that gracefully, you might add, as your ankle buckled going up one of the stairs and you fell into Arthur. Luckily he caught you. 

“You okay?” Arthur asked you as you wobbly walked down the hallway to your apartment door. He didn’t notice as much while the two of you were walking in the streets. 

“Yeahah, I’m just… you know,” you shook your head and unlocked your door, “Come on in.”

You kicked your shoes off and hung your coat up, going straight to the record player next to your television set. 

“No radio?” Arthur asked when he followed you in.

“I have one. It’s in the kitchen by the stove. I just prefer the sound the record player has, you know?” you put on one of your favorite bombastic jazz records and swung your hips as you shimmied your way into the kitchen to make you both coffee. 

Arthur was smiling wide, and he turned the corner into your kitchen. 

“You like to dance?” Arthur asked.

“Pfft, me?” you chortled, “I don’t dance, no,” you filled the coffee grounds into the filter of your coffee machine. 

“But you just were,” he stepped closer to you.

“Well, yeah, cuz I really like music. I don’t think like swaying is really dancing.”

“Dance with me,” Arthur held out his arm to you. You started the coffee machine and looked at him. 

“Hehere? In my narrow kitchen built to fit like half a person at a time?”

“Out here,” Arthur grabbed your wrist and dragged you into your living room, where there was definitely more space.

“Arthur…” you mumbled, embarrassed. He hooked one arm around your waist and held your other hand up with his own. He started to guide you around the carpeted floor. 

“Your cologne smells good,” you said, not having been this close to him for this long a period all night.

“I’m glad you like it. It was important to have some for a date.”

“You didn’t wear cologne when you came to my house for dinner,” you chided him with a smirk. 

Arthur grinned right back at you and suddenly dipped you as the song swelled, making you squeak In surprise. He pulled you back up as you were laughing, somehow ending up closer to his body than before. 

“Youhu’re crazy.”

“And you’re dancing.”

You looked up at him and kept smiling wide. It was starting to hurt your cheeks, but you didn’t mind. You let him spin you as your fingertips touched and then resumed the position facing each other, swaying as the new song that came on was on the slower side. 

The coffee machine beeped and you stopped dancing with him. 

“I’ll go get us some mugs,” you said and playfully poked his ribs before you went back into the kitchen. He held where you poked him, a smile splitting his features. 

You poured two cups of fresh brewed coffee and added a dash of milk and two spoonfuls of sugar to yours, remembering Arthur liked his black with a tiny bit of sugar. 

You brought them out to him to see him dancing to himself. He really was a skilled dancer. You could tell from his little routine as Carnival on the city street. 

“Coffee,” you announced, even though you felt like you could spy on him dancing like that for hours. He turned around and smiled at you, taking a seat on the couch. You went over and handed him his cup, sitting beside him with a mug of your own. 

The two of you were quiet and sipping your drinks, both smiling shyly and glancing at each other from time to time.

“When are you gonna let me see what’s in that joke book?” you nodded your head to where the notebook was poking out from the back of his pants. 

Arthur froze and he smiled to shake off the question, “It’s a secret. Like a secret recipe, I wouldn’t want to give anything away–”

“Why? I would really like to read some if you won’t even tell them to me,” you were still smiling at him innocently. 

Arthur stared at you and he sighed, “It—” he sighed again and ran fingers through his hair. You could see his leg starting to shake again, “It’s not just a joke book. My therapist… she gave it to me as more of a journal. But I use it for both.”

“I get it,” you cut him off before he started blabbering more, “Don’t worry,” and you showed him an understanding smile. If he just said it was a journal from the start, you wouldn’t have even been pressing. That was some private stuff. Still, you wondered what a cutout of a naked woman was doing in a journal/joke book. 

“Does it help?” you asked, curious still.

Arthur shrugged and traced the rim of his coffee cup with his finger, “Yeah. Yeah, I use it a lot.”

That didn’t directly answer your question, either, but you let it slide. But it seemed this topic opened something inside of Arthur as he kept talking.

“I was locked up at the institution for a while,” he went rummaging through his vest pocket for his cigarettes, “They thought I posed a danger to myself and to others. I was… my condition,” he looked you right in the eyes with those steel iris’s of his, “was worse back then, believe it or not. I was, um, suicidal. So, they let me out and gave me all these drugs that helped in the beginning. But now they’re… well, they’re not working as well. My social worker makes sure I have a job, that I go home to my mother, and that I’m not having any negative thoughts, which…” he started to laugh, but not one of his fits, “It’s funny.” 

You listened to him and didn’t interrupt until it seemed like he wanted to end it there. 

“Your card,” you started talking, “It said your condition was caused by head trauma or some neurological thing. Were you in an accident?”

Arthur shook his head, “For as long as I can remember I’ve lived with it. I would, um….” he dusted some cigarette ash off his pants, “I had problems with.. hurting myself,” he prodded his forehead a few times to indicate a place where he’d hurt himself, “But that was after I’d been living with my condition.”

“Does laughing normally hurt you?” you asked, your curiosity and even pity still growing.

Arthur shook his head, “No. Although I don’t really laugh a lot anyway, cuz it makes me think of the other one…”

“If it’s any difference to you, I like when you laugh. Not the bad one when it hurts you. But anytime you laugh with me,” you smiled at him and took another sip of your coffee, “Gotta return the compliment you always give me.”

Arthur smiled at you and now he was blushing at the receiving end. 

You let him continue smoking his cigarette until there was nothing left of it. 

“Thank you for–”

“Can I–?”

You both started talking at the same time, making the two of you smile. 

“You first,” Arthur said.

“Thank you for opening up to me. About you and your condition. It takes a lot to do that.”

“Well, you make it easy to talk about myself like that.”

“Now what were you going to say?” you asked him, setting your empty coffee cup aside, looking back at him with a smile.

Arthur grinned at you, not as sweetly or as bashfully as he’d been doing all night, but that spark was in his eyes, “Can I kiss you?”

You were startled by the question in and of itself. Who asked that? He didn’t ask days ago in your bathtub. And he genuinely wanted you to consent, not even inching himself forward expecting a yes. You loved that.

You nodded your head yes, but he still didn’t move, “Yes,” you croaked.

Arthur leaned in and he pressed his lips to yours, one of his hands coming up and cupping your cheek. You felt your cheeks flush red and you kissed him back, probably more forcibly than he was to you. 

You’ve kissed men before. A good amount of men, if you’d be honest. But you’d never had the urge to blush. This was something different. Arthur had pulled you in in a way in which you knew you weren’t going to be able to make an easy escape if you ever wanted to. He was an enigma of a man. He was weird, he was awkward, he was damaged, he was funny, he was sweet, he was romantic. He was everything you could want in a guy, and you knew you’d accept him even with his flaws. 

Arthur’s hands never moved to touch your breasts or ass or anything overtly sensual like that. He had his arms wrapped around your waist now as he kissed you. You had reciprocated by draping your arms over his shoulders. 

When the moment passed, you rested your forehead against what was Arthur’s nose, breathing heavily. Your heart was racing. 

Arthur leaned down and kissed your cheek lightly and then your neck, winding up resting his head on your shoulder. You twirled the hairs at the base of his neck with your fingers, feeling his breath hitting the bare skin on your collarbones. 

You sat like that for a while. At least it felt like a while to you. You were happy to be offering Arthur comfort like this. You guessed from your first date that he was a guy who missed out on affection most of his life. 

Arthur got off of you and merely faced you, the sudden movement surprising you. He looked as if waiting for you to say something. He touched your face again, thumb caressing the corner of your mouth. You figured he was going to force you to smile again, but you gave him an honest one so he didn’t have to. You turned your face and kissed the palm of his hand, bringing your own hand up to hold his. That made him smile. 

“I-I have to go, but I… I don’t want to,” Arthur said, looking kindly at you.

You responded, “I understand. Your mom’s gonna be wondering where you went for so long.”

Arthur nodded.

You continued, “I had a great night. Really. I want to see you again soon. Maybe I can set up a date.”

Arthur nodded again, more eagerly. You stood up so you could usher him to the door. He didn’t move yet, merely extending his hand out to you, seemingly so you could pull him up. You smirked and took his hand, completely not expecting him to yank you practically into his lap. You yelped and then laughed when you were seated again.

“Jeheherk,” you giggled.

Arthur chuckled a bit on his own and he did stand up after that bit of silliness, and you walked with him to the door.

“Goodnight,” you said, hugging your arms around yourself. 

Arthur reciprocated the goodnight, and when he did, you held his arms so he wouldn’t leave just yet and gave his cheek a parting kiss. Arthur smiled wide, and when he walked down the hallway, he turned and started doing a little jig. 

You snorted and laughed softly at him again, “Youhu’re a whacko,” you lovingly teased him. 

Arthur gave an exaggerated bow before heading off down the stairs, out of your apartment building.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes lots of fluff. Like, too much fluff. lol

You woke up feeling well-rested enough. As you blinked your eyes open against the blazing morning sun, you knew there was a weird dream poking at your brain, and you were trying to remember. Something to do with Arthur in his clown getup, but you couldn’t remember what happened exactly. Oh well. 

You slung yourself out of bed and stood by the window, ogling because you hadn’t seen this much sun in Gotham in months. It was truly a sight to behold. You looked down at the streets below, seeing the day’s 9 to 5 workers bustling back and forth in large crowds. And you raised your eyebrows when you saw multiple clown masks among those average folk. Another protest? Oh right, Thomas Wayne was having a press conference somewhere nearby today in one of the official buildings. 

This clown thing ramped up very quickly. You never liked clowns, then you see one on the street, then you get to know him, and now anti-1% clowns are running around Gotham asking for justice. 

You didn’t have much planned today since you didn’t have work. Your theater was preparing for the gala that was coming up later that week, so they needed time to fix the place up. You knew you wanted to bake cookies at some point and you had to pick up refills on your prescriptions, but that was pretty much it. 

You got dressed and felt refreshed when the nipper air hit your skin the minute you stepped outside. Seasons were changing, and you were grateful for it. 

You walked the long walk to your pharmacy and pushed the door open, hearing the entry bell tinkle. You walked to the back of the store and put your name in, then stepped aside to wait for them to give you your refills.

And who would sidle up beside you from the pain medication isle but Arthur. You were nudged gently by said man standing very close beside you, so you looked up and smiled wide, “Hi!” you greeted him, probably a bit too enthusiastically. 

Arthur smiled back at you, “Hi. What’re you doing here?” he did his best to act innocently, as if he didn’t already know you came to this pharmacy for prescription drugs. 

You hadn’t had to confront him yet about your own bodily malfunctions, and it made you feel ashamed. So, you wound up not answering him right away, clearing your throat.

“Oh, just picking up some stuff. What about you?”

“Same. I’m getting the last of my, um, prescriptions.”

“Why the last?”

“They’ve stopped funding my social service program.”

You frowned, taken aback by the news, “Oh…. Arthur, I’m sorry.”

Arthur shrugged, “What can you do? No one feels for the little guy anymore.”

The pharmacist called Arthur’s name and he walked up to the counter. You stood there, feeling increasingly bad about his situation. Every single thing just seemed to go wrong for this poor man. And it wasn’t fair at all. 

Arthur stepped aside after he received his pretty hefty back of prescriptions, and you were next, taking yours and putting them away into your purse. 

“You busy today?” you asked.

Arthur seemed to think about it, “Um, no. But… But I promised my mother I’d make us dinner tonight.”

You smiled at that, “That’s sweet. Well, I was going to do some baking today. Cookies, mostly. You wanna come over and help? Afterwards, you can bring some home to your mom.”

Arthur’s face seemed to loosen at this request and his lips curved into a smile. He nodded, “Sure, I’d like that.”

“Great. Come, I gotta pick up some ingredients,” you didn’t know what possessed you, but you slid your hand comfortably into Arthur’s and tugged him along with you to the exit. It felt good to be more physical with him. And Arthur didn’t seem to mind at all, smiling goofily, looking down at your intertwined hands. 

You walked down the street with your hand in his, asking about how his mom was doing, if he was looking for another job. 

That’s when Arthur asked, “Do you have family?” which sounded like an odd question to you. Did you seem like that much of a loner?

“Yeah. None of them live in Gotham though. My mom lives out east more, in the nicer suburbs. And my dad lives in Chicago with his girlfriend. And I have two brothers, one older and one younger.”

Arthur seemed to stare at you a little differently while you were giving the brief rundown of your family and their whereabouts. Was it an incomprehension? Or jealousy? You couldn’t quite place his reaction when you looked up at him, but turned into the grocery store when you reached it, letting go of his hand finally and holding the door for him, “After you.”

Arthur appeared to have moved on and he nodded his head in thanks to you and stepped inside. 

You always loved the smell of the fresh baking bread in grocery stores. But money was getting tighter since you weren’t working as frequently, so you resisted the urge to pick up a fresh loaf of bread. You purchased all of your required ingredients and headed to your home.

“Alright, I’m so ready to get these cookies baking,” you said once you entered your apartment. You set the grocery bag down on the kitchen countertop, and Arthur followed by putting his down, as well. You threw off your coat and kicked off your shoes, tying your hair up as a final step.

“Do you bake?”

“No, not really.”

“Your mom never made anything for you or showed you how to bake something?”

Arthur shook his head, “She wasn’t really a cook.”

You nodded, “Alright, not everyone’s good at it. My mom was an awful cook growing up. I swear she was trying to poison my brothers and me sometimes.”

Arthur chuckled at the joke.

“This’ll be fun. If you and your mom like these cookies, maybe you can bake them yourself for her at some point.”

Arthur nodded, liking the idea.

You pulled out your measuring cups, bowls, and stirring tools needed to create the dough for the sugar cookies you wanted to bake. 

You told him to measure out 3 cups of flour as you went into the adjacent living room and flipped through your records to put on some music. You found one of the rock and roll records your dad gifted you a few years back and stuck the needle into it. 

“Okay, let’s do this,” you beamed when you walked back into the kitchen, clapping your hands together, “So whenever you’re baking cookies, it’s important to keep the dry ingredients separate from the wet ingredients.”

And you went on, explaining to Arthur step by step what to do and why. He seemed eager to learn and was nodding at everything you told him. 

“This is the part that always makes my hand hurt afterward, it requires a lot of manpower. So go for it,” you chuckled and instructed Arthur to slowly mix in the dry ingredients into the wet ingredients bowl. 

You watched his face mostly as he worked, seeing the determined jut in his brow. You saw him whisking up the flour a bit too fast, so it puffed up everywhere, sprinkling over your countertop and on him. 

“Sorry! I–”

“Ihit’s okay!” you giggled and stepped closer to him. You hooked an arm underneath his and started rolling up his sleeve for him, “Baking’s messy, that’s supposed to happen.”

Arthur seemed distracted by you rolling up his sleeves, but he resumed his mixing, slower this time. You smiled at him and when you took a step back, you realized just how much sexier Arthur looked with rolled-up sleeves. It added to his usual button-up shirt and sweater combo. You leaned closer to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek before you went to the other end of the kitchen in search of a rolling pin.

Arthur blushed hard and his head turned towards you when you administered the kiss. You were so easy to touch him and hug him and kiss him. Was he supposed to be the same towards you? Was he not reciprocating enough? Worry quickly encompassed Arthur’s mind seconds after feeling on cloud nine. That’s just what he did. 

You grabbed your large rolling pin and sauntered back over to Arthur, seeing he was finishing up the dough. You tapped the rolling pin on his ass teasingly, asking, “How’s it going?”

Arthur jolted at the touch, making you laugh. He eyed you, “I dunno, you tell me.”

You peered into his bowl and asked for the spoon from him. He handed it over and you started to finish kneading until it was perfect dough consistency, “Tada. You just made your first sugar cookie dough,” and you gave him a round of applause.

Arthur smiled, “That wasn’t so bad.”

“I know. Now, we gotta let this set up in the fridge for like twenty minutes to a half hour,” you bunched up the dough into a ball and wrapped it up in saran wrap, sticking it into the fridge carefully. 

You scraped your finger on the side of the bowl that used to contain the dough and licked it off, “Try some. Cookie dough is the most delicious thing on the planet.”

And Arthur followed your lead, tasting the granules of sugar and the slight saltiness and the smoothness. It was pretty tasty.

“Mmmm,” you moaned in happiness when you swiped the last of the dough from the bowl, “I’m excited for these.”

“Where’d you learn to cook?” Arthur inquired.

“I dunno. My dad was always the chef of the family, but he left when I was relatively young. I’m mostly self-taught. I went away to college so I had to fend for myself, and I didn’t have the money to eat out every day. So I learned to cook.”

You started putting dishes into the sink and soaking them. You offered, “And hey, if you ever wanna cook something at your own home, I can give you a few recipes. Oh, I have this one for grilled cheese,” you groaned in pleasure, “Oh, it’s fucking amazing.”

Arthur chortled, “I lihike that you’re so passionate about food.”

“Yeah, well, I’m sure I look like I’m passionate about food,” you giggled, giving yourself a jab at your own weight. Nothing awful, just throwing it out there.

“You’re beautiful,” Arthur said sweetly, genuinely. Anytime he did those sudden extreme compliments, you flushed red. You just couldn’t help it. This time was no different. You didn’t really show any reaction when he said that, just ducking your burning face as you started washing dishes you wouldn’t be using anymore. Arthur leaned in close to your ear and he whispered, “You’re beautiful,” and that made you giggle bashfully.

“Ahalright, I get it. Thank you,” you turned your head and made eye contact. It seemed Arthur was waiting for you to look his way, being in such close proximity, and he kissed you on the lips. You kissed back for that brief moment and then smiled wide at him afterward. 

When you finished the dishes, you offered Arthur some tea. He accepted and you boiled water for the two of you so you could have tea in the meantime while waiting for the cookie dough to set up. You were telling Arthur about how nervous you were to be working the gala at Wayne Hall in two days. You heard they were planning a massive strike outside, and you didn’t know how much longer these protests would be ‘peaceful.’ But you really wanted to watch _Modern Times_ with a live orchestra, so you said you’d suck it up. 

“Alright, time for the fun part,” you announced after a half hour had flown by, after you and Arthur had drank your tea. 

Arthur went with you back into the kitchen and observed you, standing close by. You stuck your hands into the flour bag and sprinkled some all over the cutting board, “Just throw the dough on there, please,” you requested.

Arthur did as he was told, plopping it onto the floured surface, “See, you do this so the dough doesn’t stick anywhere and get all messy,” you always seemed to have an itch on your face whenever your hands were indisposed, so you quickly swiped the back of your hand over your nose, getting a streak of flour there. Then you started working the dough into a slightly more malleable form. 

“You have some…” Arthur touched his own nose while looking at you, grinning.

“What?”

Arthur reached forward and flicked the flour off with his finger.

“Oho, thanks,” you smiled and got more flour onto your hands patting it onto the top of the dough before you swiftly reached up and pinched Arthur’s nose briefly, getting it coated with flour, as well. You laughed.

“Why?” was all Arthur said, clearly good-humored.

You kept giggling and shrugged, “I dunno, your nose is big.”

“My nose is big?” he reacted more outlandishly than you thought he would, making you laugh more. 

“Yeahahah.”

“I don’t think it’s that big,” he defended, wiping the flour from his nose.

You were busy rolling out the dough when you added, “Well, I think it works out. You gotta have a big nose to fit that red clown nose onto it,” and you laughed at your own joke more, even if it didn’t make any sense, “Oh my god, you should do your clown makeup with all cooking ingredients one day. Lihihike, like… flour for your face– or whipped cream! You can just stick your face into whipped cream or something– H-Hey! Arthur!” you were cut off when Arthur had come near you and started to pinch at your side. It was clearly meant to tickle.

“You’re so funny,” Arthur said honestly, “Especially when it’s at my expense,” he teased and continued to prod and squeeze. You tried to keep your hands on the rolling pin but that was failing fast.

“Arthur, wahahait!” you started to sink down onto the kitchen floor. Arthur took pity and he chuckled, stopping and pulling you to your feet instead.

“Dohon’t do that again,” you warned him, shooting him a look, but you were smiling so he knew you weren’t actually mad at him.

“Okay,” Arthur conceded easily and then added, “I’ll just do it again when you start talking about putting ketchup all over my lips next.”

That made you snort and you patted the dough once more, “Finished,” you reached across Arthur and grabbed the cookie cutter, “Press this all over the dough. It’ll make us nice round cookies,” you went and got the baking tray while Arthur was tasked with cookie cutting. 

Pretty soon, all the cookies were cut and laid out on trays. Then you slid them into the oven. 

“Nice,” you said, feeling proud of your work together. There was a moment of silence, of peacefulness, and you really enjoyed it. 

You scratched your nose again with not totally clean hands, not even looking at Arthur when you said, “Maybe blueberry jam for the eye makeup…”

And that was it. 

You squeaked and ran out of the kitchen when you saw Arthur immediately come towards you, with a clear mischievous intention. It was a futile effort; maybe because you weren’t fast enough, or maybe because you actually wanted to get caught. But Arthur had wrapped both arms around your waist, snagged you, and lifted you up as he plopped you onto the couch. My god was this man strong. You were already giggling by the time he straddled you. 

“Arthur, no no no no, wahait, I’m sorry— WAIT!” you shrieked when he started to tickle your belly and sides with those stupid long, nimble fingers of his. 

“You never told me you were ticklish,” was what Arthur decided to say. 

“N-Never came up!” you started cackling when he went for pinching your ribs.

Arthur was swooning at the sight of you below him, red-faced, squirming, practically crying with laughter. 

“Nohohot fair! This isn’t FAIR!” you yipped and arched your back when he experimentally squeezed at your hip bone.

Arthur’s fingers were working of their own accord by this point, as his eyes were trained on your lovely face. Your hands would occasionally come down to swat at his attacking ones, but mostly they were clung to your chest. And Arthur felt such pride in the fact that he was eliciting this musical laughter from you, no other reason. 

Finally, he relented. His hand didn’t move from its place at your side but it had stopped tickling. You panted and coughed, letting your residual giggles die down. You felt his hand flinch, and you shot yours to it, “Noho more,” you breathed, gripping Arthur’s hand in your own. 

Arthur was past the point of smiling at you. He was staring at you with those big eyes of his and you finally wiped the tears in your eyes away enough to see him. He looked beautiful. You saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed and his eyes flickered to your lips.

You leaned up to give him permission and he was on you in an instant, kissing you so tenderly. You lifted one hand up and rested it on Arthur’s waist, and your other hand was touching his jaw. 

Everything was beautiful about this day. It started with the weather. Then the coincidence of running into Arthur, his free schedule, and your desire to be with him all lined up. Cookie baking turned into a one-sided tickle fight. And now here was this beautiful, beautiful man, inside and out, kissing your lips and your jawline and your neck on your couch, flour and sugar still making both of your hands sticky and your mouths taste sweet. You had both of your hands now cradling the back of Arthur’s neck, lightly tracing the base of his neck with your nails. Your lips were close to his ear, and you could hear him breathing. You pressed a few tiny kisses along his cheek. Then Arthur spoke. 

“I can smell the cookies.”

And a smile bloomed on your face.


	14. Chapter 14

The night before the gala at Wayne Hall, you made sure to get to bed early so you’d be well-rested and have your best attitude in front of the patrons at the theater.

Your phone rang in the middle of the night and you shot up in bed, startled, “Mmm… shit…” you mumbled and stood up, going to the ringing phone in your living room, “Hello?”

The line was quiet on the other side until you heard a faint, “Hi, Y/N.”

“Arthur? What’s wrong?” you yawned.

“My… My mom’s in the hospital, I just… would you mind—”

“Oh my god, Arthur, is she okay?”

“They think so, she had a stroke–”

“I’ll come by. Is she at Gotham General?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” and you hung up. You had your own history with family members being admitted into hospitals suddenly, so you knew how important it was to have support in times like these. And since Arthur was still living with his mother, you could only imagine how nervous he must be to have her in the hospital, suffering from a stroke no less. 

You threw on clothes and took the train a few stops to the hospital. You were lucky you got a train at this time of night. When you arrived, you realized you forgot to ask what his mom’s first name was. You didn’t see him in the waiting room, so you went up to the front desk and put in the name Fleck, asking if they could get Arthur to come down and bring you up.

You waited a few minutes and soon Arthur rounded a corner. You walked up to him and hugged him tight, rubbing his back, “How are you doing?”

“Thank you for coming.”

“Of course. I’m sorry this happened. Was it sudden?”

Arthur looked at you and he started walking, “I’ll explain upstairs.”

By the time you got to the hospital room, Arthur informed you that it was unexpected. It happened while he was out and when he came home, they were carting her off in an ambulance.

Arthur couldn’t look at Y/N while he told this lie. He couldn’t implicate himself by saying cops showed up and wanted to ask Penny questions about the subway murders. He was still pissed at those fucking cops. 

You walked into the hospital room with Arthur and saw Penny lying on the bed, unresponsive. 

“What’s her name?”

“Penny.”

“Hi, Penny,” you went over to the bedside and touched her arm gently, “Arthur’s making sure the doctors are taking good care of you.”

Arthur took a seat on the bench in between the window and the bed. He ran fingers through his hair. You saw his leg bouncing again and you went over to him, sitting directly next to him. 

“She’s gonna be okay,” you reminded him and leaned over, placing a kiss to his temple. 

Arthur seemed off in his own world. You didn’t blame him for being distant, this was a catastrophic event in his life. You leaned back in your seat and crossed your legs, letting him have his silence. You merely rested your hand on his back and gently scratched your nails back and forth. 

“Why’d she call you Happy?” you asked after a few minutes.

“What?”

“When I stopped by your place a few weeks ago. She called you Happy.”

Arthur looked at you and he opened his mouth to speak, first running his tongue over his dry lips, “She’s always called me that. Since I was little. She said I never cried when I was a baby. I was her happy little boy.”

You smiled softly and rubbed his back before folding your hands onto your lap, “She’s lucky to have you as a son.”

“Yeah.”

You yawned behind your hand, trying to make it as quiet as possible. You could tell Arthur’s mind was swimming with thoughts. What thoughts, you couldn’t possibly guess. There was never any way you’d figure out he was thinking about how he was the illegitimate son of Thomas Wayne and Penny, how he met his younger brother at Wayne Manor, how close the cops were to suspecting him in the subway murders, how they scared Penny and gave her a heart attack and she fell so hard she hit her head and now she’s here.

“I’m gonna get a coffee. You want one?” 

“Yeah.”

You gave him another kiss on the top of his head before leaving to go to the hospital cafeteria.

Arthur had put on the channel with the Murray Franklin show on before you had gotten there and Murray was just about to start his opening set. Arthur scooted closer to the edge of the bed and held his mother’s hand, looking up at the TV. The next thing he knew, he was up on the screen.

“Oh my god,” Arthur sat back in shock, staring at the screen with an open mouth. There he was! It was his standup routine! And it was on the Murray Franklin show!

When it cut back to Murray after they played one of Arthur’s jokes, he said, “You can say that again, pal.” The audience erupted in laughter. 

Arthur had stood up in front of the hospital bed to fully watch the segment. His face fell when he realized Murray was making fun of him and his condition. That made something deep inside him boil up into anger. He could feel it rising to his chest and then a laugh burst through. 

You were down the hall with two cups of coffee when you heard Arthur’s piercing laugh, “Shit,” you cursed and walked a little faster.

“Hey hey,” you said the minute you entered the hospital room, putting the drinks down. You went to him and wrapped your arms around him. 

He seemed thoroughly surprised to see you, and he let out one more big laugh before it trailed off into smaller chortles.

“I’m here, Arthur, it’s alright,” you felt like you were calming a child. Arthur gave a big exhale and then hugged you close to his chest. 

“I thought I imagined you…”

“What?” you looked up at him, puzzled.

“This whole time. I-I thought you were part of my imagination. You weren’t real. No one has ever cared for me the way you do… it seemed too good to be true.”

“Well, I’m real. Just like you’re real, and she’s real,” you gestured to Penny, “Don’t doubt that.”

“My imagination is… well, it’s always been…” 

“Something?” you finished his lingering sentence with a grin, “That’s what makes you such a good clown. You have a lot of imagination and creativity.”

Arthur looked down at you and his whole face softened. He wanted to tell you he was on the Murray Franklin show. He wanted to tell you how he looked up to Murray like a father figure most of his life. How Murray made fun of him. How Murray was just like everyone else in Gotham. 

“Thank you,” was all he actually said. 

You handed him his coffee, “I’m gonna get going soon, Arthur. I have work tomorrow.”

“O-Of course. _Modern Times_, right?”

“Yeah, it’s finally here,” you smiled and sipped your own drink, “I wish you could come.”

“Well, it’s not meant for people like me. And I have to take care of my mom.”

You nodded, “Yeah, I know. Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come off like that. I wasn’t saying you’re–”

“I know,” Arthur put a finger over your jabbering lips and he was smiling softly at you. You really liked that smile. 

“Goodnight, Arthur,” you leaned up and pecked his lips with a kiss, “Goodnight, Penny,” you looked toward the bed, “Keep me updated on her.”

Arthur nodded. 

You turned around and left to finish sleeping for the rest of the night best you could. 

~~

You woke up surprisingly not feeling that groggy. You did your hair and makeup with care, wanting to look like you belonged with the elites of Gotham this evening. Maybe they’d even tip you. You rethought that because funnily enough, rich people were the worst when it came to tips. You had more of a chance getting tipped by the average joe. 

You headed to work with jitters. Even though your call time was hours before the event was to start, you already saw protestors grouped out front behind barricades. You went up the back route to avoid the crowd, cheering “Fuck Wayne” at the moment. 

When the time came, you had put your red uniform on and the guests started to pour in. Things went relatively smoothly and you were shocked, having every guest seated by the time the opening chords of the orchestra began playing. You took your place at a box on the lefthand side of the theater. 

The audience was laughing at every Chaplin shenanigan. The guy really was a genius. Watching this film now after all that’s happened to you in the past month, it made you think of Arthur. He shared similarities with Chaplin and his work. God, he would’ve loved to be here for this. 

You spent the time watching and enjoying the production as much as everyone in the audience was, lighting your flashlight when a guest stood to use the restrooms. You’d let your eyes drift over the crowd every now and then, and you saw one of the ushers standing towards the front of the mezzanine. They were not in position at all. Maybe someone was acting inappropriately? The longer you looked, even from your position across the way, you could see that was…

“Arthur?” you said aloud despite yourself, clearing your throat quickly after to not disturb the patrons. What in the hell was he doing here, and dressed in one of the usher uniforms no less? You told him you would’ve tried to get him in if he wanted to see the show so badly. Was he crazy!? You saw him turning around back up the stairs and you stepped out of the box, looking around for another usher.

“Hey, Jack?” you saw him standing in the hallway, “Can you cover for me? I have to use the bathroom.”

And you rushed around to the back of the Hall to make it to Arthur. You saw him duck into the men’s bathroom right after you rounded the corner, “Shit…”

He would have to come out eventually, so you waited in between the two restrooms, acting like this was part of your job as you smiled at the men and woman coming in and out of the bathrooms. 

You knew you heard Arthur’s voice after a good five minutes, but you couldn’t make out what he was saying. He sounded angry, if that was even possible for the guy. You hadn’t seen him angry once. And who was he angry at? Then you heard the laugh and you wanted to run in there and stop him. You clearly heard a “Dad!” and then there was more laughter, then cut off, and then Thomas Wayne himself stormed out of the bathroom, as you heard the end of the sentence, “… and I’ll fucking kill you,” before he burst through the door and headed back to his seat. 

You didn’t care if there were other men in there, but you went into the bathroom and saw Arthur leaning over the sink, sucking in air and hiccupping as he held his nose. 

“Arthur, what the fuck are you doing here? And why were you arguing with– oh my god,” and you ran to his side the minute he looked up in surprise at you and you could see blood running from his nose. 

He was still getting over his laughing fit, but this sounded so much more painful than ever before, as his hand was squeezing his bloodied nose. 

“You got fucking punched by Thomas Wayne…” you said incredulously, instructing him to clean the blood off his face with the cold sink water. 

You looked at him when he’d cleaned most of the blood off and you handed him a hand towel to keep there. 

“Well, I know why your nose is so huge,” you cracked a joke, “You’re always getting pummelled in the nose.”

Arthur actually chuckled at that as he held the towel to his nose. You stared at him, “Arthur, you better start talking. What’s going on?”

Arthur stared at you and he faltered, “I-I… My mom… I’m his son.”

“Huh?”

“Thomas Wayne is my dad. My mom wrote him a note talking about their son, and it was me. But everyone’s confusing me, so I wanted to talk to him. And I could only get to him here. But then he started calling my mother crazy a-and saying that I’m adopted and he was.. he was so _rude_!” Arthur hung his head and you could tell he was trying not to cry. 

That was a hell of a lot of information to take in, and immediately you didn’t believe it. Thomas Wayne wasn’t that much older than Arthur, and you didn’t even know how old either of them were. 

Someone came into the restroom then and eyed you and Arthur suspiciously before going to one of the urinals. You took Arthur’s arm and headed toward the door, “Arthur, you have to get out of here. Go home, take care of yourself. I’ll come to your place after I finish this shift, okay? You can explain everything to me then because I’m really confused right now. Come, I’ll show you where you can exit from–”

“I know how to leave. I’m sorry, I didn’t think of how this would affect you and your job.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s fine. Go home,” you gave his arm a squeeze and started back towards your position inside. You didn’t look back, hoping he’d listen and just leave. You sighed when you got back to your place, rubbing your hands over your face. This man came with so much baggage, you didn’t even know if you were able to share the load with him. It would crush both of you.


	15. Chapter 15

You couldn’t even enjoy the rest of the night because of what you ran into involving Arthur in the restroom. You also kept looking at Thomas Wayne from across the theater repeatedly. So many questions were running through your mind, you probably concocted thirty different crazy stories about how everything pieced together based on what Arthur shared with you. You undressed out of your uniform and took the train to Arthur’s apartment building. He buzzed you in and when you got to his apartment, he looked almost sick. More than he should have. He was standing there with very baggy sweatpants and no shirt or socks. 

You went right in, looking around the place. You expected a total wreck, furniture tossed over, garbage everywhere. But no. There were maybe a few unwashed dishes in the sink and a mug sitting out on the coffee table. You went into his kitchen and saw everything from the fridge turned out: shelves and food. 

“Arthur…” you said softly, turning around and going back out. He was walking towards the bedroom, but stopped when you said his name. You placed a hand on his arm and it was ice cold. You frowned and stared up at him with wide, concerned eyes. He seemed stoned. That was the behavior you were witnessing, completely numb and out of his body. 

You didn’t even want to know what happened. You didn’t want to hear the actual pieces of the puzzle. You just wanted to warm Arthur up and keep him company this night. So much was going so wrong so fast, it was like a torpedo and you were in the way. 

You left him standing there and went into the bedroom, “Where do you keep your clothes?”

Arthur pointed to a dresser by the window. You went to it and pulled out a very comfortable-feeling sweater and you walked over to him, holding it out. He looked from the sweater to you and took it into his hands. You touched his forearm and leaned up on your toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. After, you went straight out to the kitchen to clean up. 

You were on your knees, crouching, and bending over to try and fit in all those shelves back into the fridge where they belonged. When that was finished, you dealt with the food. You threw out vegetables and fruits and a piece of cheese that were all moldy, returning all the other fresh items into their cold sanctum. Then you stood with a groan and pushed the hair that had slipped from your bun out of your face. You washed your hands and filled up a glass of water for yourself, chugging it down. 

You peeked into the bedroom and saw Arthur laying on top of the sheets. He put the sweater on and added some socks for extra warmth, which made you happy. You turned around and got to really take in his apartment.

You hadn’t exactly been able to get the tour or anything last time you were here, as you were traumatized. You walked around and looked at every fixture and photograph and decorative painting. You immediately felt even sadder, realizing this was totally Penny Fleck’s apartment. There was not an inch of Arthur’s personality or his soul to be found represented in this space. If there were framed photos, they were of Penny or who you assumed were her family. None of Arthur as a child or even grown-up. Not a single one. It was like he didn’t exist. You felt a little closer to him at that moment.

You rounded the corner into Penny’s bedroom and gave it another quick once-over. Arthur looked up from where he was staring and touching the fabric of the bedsheet beside him. 

“Can you stay with me tonight?” came Arthur’s meek voice.

You really weren’t planning on that. You looked at him and glanced around the room some more. You then saw a pair of folded clothing by the foot of the bed. They were for you.

Your expression softened for the first time that day since you saw Arthur during your shift. You nodded and went over, picking up the clothing. Arthur laid back down in his previous position. 

You figured he was so out of it that he wouldn’t mind it if you changed in there. You didn’t feel like walking all the way to the bathroom and having to step on the cold tiles. You dropped your pants first and pulled on the sweatpants Arthur had given you. They were a little snug around the waist and thighs. Then you unbuttoned your top and started undoing your bra. That’s when you felt eyes on you. They bore through the back of your head. Arthur was watching, but it didn’t feel sexual to you. It felt like he needed comfort and seeing this made him feel warm, almost. It was a hard feeling to describe, how you were feeling what he was feeling. You slipped the thin long-sleeved sleep shirt over your head and gathered your clothing, folding them neatly and putting them on the chair by the vanity. You then turned towards Arthur in the bed. He was looking right into your eyes.

You went around to the other side of the bed and sat down. Arthur immediately reached out his hand and pulled at your wrist. You climbed in and laid down beside him. Your heart was beating fast and you knew it was because you were nervous but also scared. Scared because you were realizing you didn’t know this Arthur. This Arthur who had been lied to all his life about who he was. Son of a millionaire? Adopted? He was floating in the limbo of identity. And you were along with him on the journey.

Arthur snuggled close to your chest and took a deep inhale of breath. Was he smelling you? When he exhaled, the laughs started bubbling up. 

You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him close. He threw his own arm over your waist and held you, gripping onto your shirt and pulling at it in his fist, laughing louder. You heard the choking noise and you squeezed his shoulder hard. Being there in this situation after a stressful day, it just took its toll on you, hearing his harrowing laughter. You let a tear filled with stress slip down your cheek, still done up with makeup. And you knew you felt a wet spot forming on the shirt over your stomach, where Arthur was currently burying his face, muffling his cackling. It was tears of his own.

“Sh-Shhh…” you got out and then sniffled, quickly wiping your eyes with one hand. Your other one rubbed Arthur’s back, “I know. I know, sweetheart, I’m here…”

Arthur let this go on for another minute and then he took a deep, shuddering breath, lifting his head from your stomach where he had shrunken to. He looked up at you and he pushed himself back towards the pillows.

“When this city burns…” Arthur’s voice took on a darker tone that you never heard before and it sent shivers up your spine, “You’ll be safe with me.”

You suddenly were terrified. In that moment, you knew Arthur was a murderer. And he had fallen head over heels in love with you. And you knew you had some inward connection to him. Love? You couldn’t say yet. But while this flood of enlightenment washed over you, you leaned down and kissed his lips. Both of your cheeks were wet from crying. You kissed him over and over again, and Arthur soon gained momentum, eventually leaning up over you. 

His one hand was set by the side of your head and his other was holding your hip. You were gently pulling at the hair on the back of his neck, making sure he wasn’t going to break the kisses. And you wanted more from him. But he wasn’t moving his hands. You pulled at his shirt, making sure his body was closer to yours, and you introduced your tongue into his mouth. He moaned and you blushed, kissing him with more vigor. 

You felt around for the hand that was placed on your hip and you grabbed his wrist, leading it up towards your breast. When you let it rest and you could just feel the weight and grip of his hand on your breast, he yanked his hand away. You looked at him, lips parted from his. 

“I can’t do that,” Arthur breathed.

A virgin. Well, you figured that from the first moment you saw him out of makeup. 

“It’s okay,” you cupped his cheek, looking at his now worried face, “Hey,” you leaned up and kissed his lips sweetly, “It’s okay,” you repeated.

Arthur collapsed beside you on the bed and he cuddled close to you again. He craved simple affections. 

“I’ll spend the day with you tomorrow,” you told him, playing with his hair, “Whatever you want.”

Arthur nodded his head in agreement. You shifted around and pulled the blankets over yourself and Arthur. That made you feel instantly more comfortable and so you turned off the bedside lamp near you and hugged Arthur to yourself. 

Time passed and your mind wandered. It must’ve wandered pretty far because you giggled at a thought that came to mind.

Arthur asked, “What?”

You shook your head, chuckling a little, “I was just thinking how funny it would’ve been if when I got in the bed, I sat on a whoopee cushion or a rubber chicken…” _you know, because of the clown thing_, you wanted to add, but didn’t. 

And Arthur smiled at you. He smiled pretty large, with his crooked teeth and all. And that made you happy. You then yawned and fell asleep not long after, with Arthur’s lank but strong arms holding tight around your waist. 


	16. Chapter 16

You woke up rather suddenly, twisting around in bed, quickly realizing that your bladder had woken you up. You sighed and remembered you weren’t at home and Arthur was asleep right next to you. You looked over at him once you wiped your eyes clear of any crud that was in them.

His hair had fallen over his forehead, covering it almost entirely. And he was breathing softly, only snoring every five breaths or so. But what drew you to him most was the appearance of his face. He looked so unaffected and even younger without the visible stress and pain he carried with him on a daily basis. Wrinkles were removed and his skin looked so perfect.

You laid in bed and stared at him, reaching over and pushing his hair out of his face as he slept on. He probably needed sleep. You doubted he even went to bed the night his mother was admitted into the hospital. Your bladder finally won and you leaned over, placing a sweet kiss onto Arthur’s temple before getting out of bed carefully. You yawned when you entered the bathroom and did your business. 

When you got to washing your hands, you looked at yourself in the mirror and scared yourself. You forgot you fell asleep with your makeup on from the benefit. You had mascara smudged all over your eyelids and under eyes. Foundation was probably smeared onto Penny’s poor pillows. You searched around for some product to clean it off and you came across an old makeup removing solution. Very old. You prayed it wouldn’t burn your face off as you applied it gingerly to your face and rinsed it all off. So far so good. 

You stepped out of the bathroom and glanced into the bedroom, seeing Arthur still asleep. You went towards the couch to take a seat and maybe watch some TV, then you saw the blue checkered duffel bag you’d been used to seeing with Arthur when he’d go around in his clown makeup. 

You pulled it up into your lap and started to rifle through it. You saw his big shoes and got to see them up close. You were surprised he got to keep this stuff after being fired, but maybe Arthur got all this with his own money. You saw his makeup kit with all the paints and brushes. You saw the wig. Then there was a pouch full of little accessories. A squirting flower, a hand buzzer, things like that. And you pulled out a name tag. 

It read:

**Doctor** _Arthur_

**Doctor of** _Laughter_

**Department of** _Laughology_

**Specialty in** _Balloons_

You smiled. This must have been the tag he wore in the children’s hospital. Suddenly, the house phone rang. You wanted Arthur to sleep as much as much as he could, so you quickly ran to pick up the phone by the kitchen.

“Hello?” you asked.

“Hi. This is Shirley Woods from _Murray Franklin Live_. Is Arthur there?”

You heard the words ‘Murray Franklin’ and your heart jumped. **_The_** Murray Franklin? Arthur would flip! What would they want with him?

“He’s not here right now, but I can speak for him,” you easily said.

“Well, alright. If you’re aware, Murray showed a clip of him on the show and we’ve been receiving amazing responses. Murray would love it if Arthur would come on as his guest. Can you set up a date where we could make that happen?”

You didn’t know what clip she was talking about but you knew your answer right away, “Absolutely, he’d be honored.”

“Does next Thursday work for him?”

“Yes.”

“Great. I’ll keep in touch.”

“Thanks. Have a nice day.”

You hung up and your smile was ready to burst. You ran back into the bedroom and jumped into the bed, cuddling close to Arthur. All the movement seemed to make him stir.

“Good morning,” you said softly and started planting kisses all over his face. You saw him start to smile as he woke up more.

“I have great news.”

Arthur grumbled and he rolled over onto his back, “Mmm…” and he exhaled and rubbed his eyes, “What news?”

“I just heard there’s gonna be an amazing guest on the Murray Franklin show next Thursday.”

“Oh yeah? Who–? Wait, I thought you didn’t watch Murray,” Arthur rolled over onto his side and looked at you.

“Oh, I’ll watch him for this guy. I am a huge fan. Wanna know who it is?”

“Yehes,” Arthur chuckled softly. 

You almost screamed the answer at him out of excitement but you didn’t want to startle him, “You!” 

“What?”

“Someone called and said they had a clip of you or something? And Murray loved it and he wants to have you on the show! Next Thursday! Isn’t that amazing!?”

A lot of thoughts swam through Arthur’s mind. It’s been his lifelong dream to be on the Murray Franklin show. And here it was in front of him. It was happening. But after seeing that portion of the show, his happiness was severely lessened. Murray just wanted him on the show to make fun of him. Arthur assumed he was taking too long to answer when he saw the excitement melt from your face and confusion overtook it. 

“You okay? You heard me, right?” you asked, holding Arthur’s arm.

“Yeah,” he said, kind of airy and out there, “That’s… That’s just incredible.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were featured on his show?” you now smacked his arm playfully.

“It wasn’t a big segment or anything–”

“I would’ve loved to see it anyway. So did you send in a video for them to play or something?”

“I don’t really want to talk about that right now,” Arthur looked dead into your eyes, “I’m still processing.”

“Yeah,” you quickly agreed, not wanting to upset him more than the past few weeks have been upsetting him, “Of course.”

“You slept here last night,” Arthur said next.

“I did.”

Arthur then smiled wide and he let out a titter of a laugh, bowing his head. Then he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close to him. He kissed you. 

“I’m all yours today,” you said to him when the kiss broke. 

“And what does that entail?” he questioned.

“Well, whatever you want to do, I’m there for you. If you want to stay at the hospital with your mom all day, I’ll stay with you. If you wanna go for a walk, let’s do it. If you wanna be lazy couch potatoes all day, I’m in,” you smiled at him. 

“If I have to pee, are you gonna come with me?”

You snorted and rolled your eyes, giving his hip a pinch, “Smahartass.”

Arthur giggled and he rolled out of bed and made his own way to the bathroom. You got comfy in the bed, even getting back under the covers just for warmth.

The minute Arthur came out of the bathroom, he made a beeline for the bedroom again, loudly asking, “Did you go through my bag?”

You barely had time to get an answer in before Arthur pounced on you in the bed and straddled your waist, looking down at you with those beautiful eyes of his.

“I may have,” you answered, smiling at him despite yourself. You could tell he wasn’t mad, he was just being mischievous. 

“Oh, you may have? Well, there’s clear evidence that suggests you definitely have,” Arthur grabbed both of your wrists and pulled them up towards the headboard of the bed. You started blushing immediately. Where the hell did he get this kinky from all of a sudden?

“Did you find my name tag?”

You nodded, not answering verbally.

“If you recall, one of my titles was Doctor of Laughter.”

You nodded again, an even more nervous smile budding on your lips. You knew what he was going to do and you tensed your whole body up in preparation for it. 

“Ahand you’re gonna what? Diagnose me?” you still had it in you to be cheeky.

Arthur grinned and he nodded, “Yes, in fact,” he transferred both of your wrists into one hand and kept them pinned above your head. 

“I diagnose you with being nosy,” Arthur poked your nose, “And the treatment is, of course, laughter.”

And then he used that one hand to pinch and scribble all over your abdomen. You shrieked and arched your back. Holy crap, you really couldn’t pull your arms down. Arthur was just that strong. The thin material of the shirt he lent you offered zero protection from his tickling fingers.

“Gehehehet ohoff!” you laughed, rocking back and forth beneath Arthur. 

“No,” he said and sounded proud of himself for saying that because he laughed afterward.

Arthur moved his hand up pinching your rips and then fluttered fingers into your exposed underarm. Not being able to protect yourself made that feeling so much more unbearable and you laughed loudly into your arm. You were kicking your feet out behind Arthur.

“Plehehease! Art– HAHA!” you cackled when he released your arms and chose to stick both of his hands into your armpits before your arms clamped down over them, securing their place. 

“AHAHAhaha! A-Art–! Stahahahap!” you could barely form words from all your laughing.

Arthur was beaming all the while, “Art, Art. That’s all you can say? Is that your new nickname for me?” he pulled his hands out and started poking at your belly. 

Your laughter dropped down to giggles but spiked again when he pinched at your hips. Your hands were trying to bat his away, but it wasn’t working. When you weren’t in tickle hell for the few seconds when Arthur was moving his hands from spot to spot, you reached out and tried to tickle him back. 

Arthur did let out a breathy kind of laugh and he stopped tickling you to grab your wrists again. Now he let you catch your breath.

“Y-You’re ticklish, too,” you proudly stated with a big smile, looking up at him, “I can tell. It’s adorable.”

Arthur kept a hold of your wrists and he leaned down so you were chest to chest and face to face. He brushed the tip of his nose against your nose before sweetly kissing you on the lips. You happily kissed back. Arthur moved to kiss your cheek and then he kissed your neck, and you made room for him by tilting your head.

Then Arthur blew a raspberry and you yelped, laughing once more. That was all the torment Arthur had in store for you for now and he let you go and stood up, “I can make us breakfast.”

“You cahan? I don’t think I saw many groceries left.”

“Cereal. Milk’s not expired yet,” Arthur responded easily and walked out of the bedroom. 

You chuckled and rubbed over your sides and your neck, trying to get the tingly feeling off your skin. You hopped out of the bed and joined him by the kitchen.

“Go sit, I’ll bring the food out,” Arthur stated.

You nodded and listened to him. He brought out two bowls of Cheerios and placed them on the coffee table in the living room. Then he made a second trip for spoons and milk.

“Thank you,” you smiled at him as he sat next to you on the couch after turning on the TV. 

After a few minutes of the two of you eating in silence, Arthur spoke, “I think I know something I’d like to do with you today.”

“Yeah?”

“I want to paint your face.”

You looked over at him, licking some milk dripping out of the corner of your mouth, “As in the clown paint?”

Arthur nodded, “You said anything I wanted.”

“I did,” you smiled, “Well, that sounds fun. Don’t make me look too crazy.”

“You don’t need me to make you look crazy.”

You laughed and kicked Arthur’s thigh with your leg that was on the couch, “Ruhude! Doctor of Laughter, indeed.”

“It’s a valid title. I make you laugh so easily.”

“By cheating!”

Arthur shrugged, a big smile on his face. You both finished eating and you took your bowls to the sink. You stretched and did the dishes quickly. When you went back out to find Arthur, you saw him back in Penny’s room, sitting by her dresser. You went up behind him and threw your arms around his shoulders, resting your chin on the top of his head, “You ready to paint me up?”

“Very ready,” Arthur responded. You gave him a kiss on his cheek before he stood up to give you the chair and he sat in a stool beside you. You looked at his spread of paints. 

“So, I know the red goes over the lips. Where do the green and blue go?”

“You’ll find out,” Arthur smiled. 

You nodded and you pushed your hair back out of your face, “Do you have a hair tie?”

“Yeah,” Arthur stood and went over to a nightstand and tossed one over to you. You pulled your hair back into a ponytail.

Arthur dipped the biggest of his paint brushes into the white base paint. He swiped it around your forehead and you shivered, “Ooh, it’s cold.”

Arthur chuckled, “This is gonna take a while if you’re going to move a lot.”

“Won’t move. I’ll be stiff as a board,” you reassured him. 

You watched Arthur as he administered paint to areas of your face that weren’t near your eyes. He looked so concentrated. Like a real artist honing his craft. 

“Close your eyes, please,” Arthur finally said to you, softly. You did as told and he painted your lids with the white paint and just underneath them as well. You felt a pinch on your thigh and you jerked, your hands pushing out to block the unseen offender.

“What’d I say about moving?” Arthur reprimanded, but you could hear the enjoyment dripping from his voice. 

You peeked an eye open at him and you grinned, on edge now. 

“Eyes closed,” Arthur reminded. You did so again, now just smiling. 

Arthur wrapped the white paint down around your cheeks. Then he paused and it was like he could already see the vision of what he wanted you to be play out in his head. He leaned in and gave your still unpainted lips a kiss. You weren’t expecting that but kissed back. Then he pulled back and dragged the brush across your upper lip and around your chin, completing the white paint stage. 

“Your skin is so smooth,” Arthur complimented, “It makes the paint look great.”

“Can I see?” you opened your eyes and wanted to lean forward to get a look in the mirror. Arthur pushed your chest back, chuckling, “Noho. No peeking.”

“Ugh, fine,” you agreed, making an exaggerated frown. 

“You would’ve been a good clown. Eyes closed, please,” Arthur continued.

You could feel the new application of paint with a smaller brush around your eyes. 

“Why would I have been a good clown?” you ask.

“You’re very expressive. It must be because you were an actor.”

You smiled softly at the compliment, “I’ve been told that before. About my having good facial expressions and stuff. And yeah, I guess it did come from acting.”

“What shows have you been in?”

“Oh, nothing famous. Little rinky-dink plays and stuff in college. Before college, I was in a few musicals.”

“You can sing?” Arthur seemed intrigued, moving his paint to your other eye once he finished the first. 

“A little. Not great at it.”

“I’m sure you’re wonderful.”

“Well, look at you. You’re a dancer. You have such an intriguing way of moving when you dance. Did you learn somewhere?” you had an itch on your scalp so you reached up to scratch it. 

“No. I’ve always kinda just done it.”

“You have music in your soul,” you smiled. 

Arthur leaned back when he finished the paint above your eyes, smiling, “You’re going to be a beautiful clown,” he commented mostly to himself, in a voice barely above a whisper. You didn’t know how to react to it, so you remained quiet.

“Does your face get super itchy once you put the makeup on? Cuz that’s how I’m feeling, but I don’t wanna mess anything up.”

Arthur chuckled, “You can hold out. I always get itchy on my nose when I do this.”

“That’s understandable,” you nodded your head.

Arthur took a new brush to the tip of your nose and drew it around in a circle. When he was filling it in you made a noise and wrinkled up your nose, “Yeah, is that what you’re talking about?”

Arthur grinned, “Yeah. Almost done, just hold still,” he placed one of his hands on your knee for stability as he finished applying the paint to your nose. He also scratched your knee with his fingertips, making you giggle and jerk again.

“Youhu’re so mean to me.”

“What can I say?” Arthur leaned close to your ear, “I have a dark side,” and he whispered into it, making you flinch because even his breath tickled by this point. 

“Okay lips. Now you really have to stay still,” Arthur instructed and he saw you pursing your lips together tightly, “Don’t do that. Just rest your face normally.”

When you loosened your lips, Arthur stared at you and he had to laugh.

“What?” you asked, worried he was laughing at you.

“You’re still smiling.”

“Oh, you need my face to be totally like neutral, is that it?”

“That’s the idea–”

“Well, I can’t help it,” you opened your eyes finally, “Being around you just makes me so happy.”

You could see Arthur’s face soften and he smiled at you. He leaned up and kissed the top of your head so he wouldn’t ruin the makeup. 

“Eyes closed one last time.”

You obeyed him and tried to relax your face as much as you could. Arthur then started drawing his lines just below the apples of your cheeks. You had such plump cheeks it made Arthur love applying this makeup, also because when you were smiling they were more pronounced. 

You remained still and calm, just breathing out of your nose. When he dragged the paintbrush across your upper lip, you resisted the urge to wrinkle up your face again. You could feel him filling in the paint all around your lips and then it stopped.

“Done?” you asked, opening an eye to see Arthur. He was just staring at you. He seemed to fall even more madly in love with you. 

“Done,” Arthur confirmed. He nodded his head to the mirror.

You leaned forward and gasped, “Ah! Holy shit! Look at that!” you were turning your head around in every angle, “I didn’t know you’d give me eyebrows, too. Wow…” you got even closer to the mirror and then laughed, “I loohook insane!”

Arthur was smiling wide, listening to all your comments. 

“Wow…” you kept saying, making different facial expressions and poses in the mirror, “It’s like a totally different face. You know? I always thought that about you. That your face looked different in the paint.”

“You like it though?” Arthur finally asked.

You smiled down at him and then straddled his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I feel like I could rob a bank and no one would figure out it’s me. So I feel pretty awesome. I like it,” you smiled at him and leaned in to kiss Arthur. He stopped you with a hand to your chest.

“Paint’s still drying.”

You chuckled, “Ohoho, good one,” you started running your fingers through Arthur’s hair.

“You know, you should go outside like that.”

You let out a quick laugh and shook your head, “Hehell no.”

“Why not? I think it’ll be funny.”

“Funny for you,” you climbed off Arthur’s lap and looked once more in the mirror. 

“What happened to doing anything I want?” now Arthur stood up. A challenge. You narrowed your eyes at him. 

“I’ll stand on your fire escape.”

Arthur laughed, happy in his playful torment over you. You went into the living room and pulled open the window that would lead to the fire escape. You looked back at him to see if he’d change his mind. Arthur merely leaned against a doorframe, smirking at you. He gestured his arm forward. You groaned and climbed out onto the fire escape, pulling your arms around yourself in the chill Gotham air. 

You heard the clang of a footstep behind you and Arthur wrapped his arms around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder. 

“Start shouting,” he goaded.

“Excuse me?”

“Draw attention.”

“You’re crazy.”

Arthur grinned, “I know.”

You sighed, a smile on your face. You decided to scream out a loud, singular, drawn-out, “Woooo!”

Some pedestrians from below looked up. Arthur laughed and he joined in the next one. 

“Hey Gotham!” you screamed and then held out two middle fingers, “Fuck you!”

Arthur was enjoying this very much. When you turned to look back at him, you were even smiling now, albeit a little cold.

Arthur reached out and held your arms, “You know, Y/N, you could go to a protest right now and be the best looking clown.”

“I’ll make front-page news?” you sidled closer to him.

“You’ll be on every news coverage video.”

You two shared a sweet silence and then Arthur pulled you close in a hug. You hugged back, most thankful for the warmth. 

“Thank you. For-For being here with me and letting me..” Arthur let out a sigh, “Letting me be happy for once in my fucking life. I think that’s what this is.”

“You seem happy to me,” you smiled at him, pulling back from the hug to look at him, “Even with everything that’s happened. I think thing’s are looking up for you, Art.”

Arthur smiled wide and he chuckled, “You’re sticking with that name?”

“I dunno, it kinda rolled off the tongue.”

Arthur shook his head, admiring you. You wrapped both of your arms up around his neck, and Arthur reacted by resting his hands by the small of your back. You let your head rest comfortably on his chest and Arthur began to sway, rocking side to side with you following. Arthur let one of his hands come up and tilt your chin upwards to look at him again. Makeup be damned, he kissed you on the lips almost forcefully, but still lovingly. You couldn’t have pictured a more whacky, perfect day if you tried. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took this long to update! I lost inspiration! And this one's kind of a bummer, also sorry lol

You made it home the following day, sleeping over at Arthur's another night. It was crazy, you knew it. Especially since he had to keep lending you clothes because you didn't exactly pack for the unexpected stay-over two nights ago. But you took those borrowed clothes home with you, promising you'd wash them for him. Upon getting home, you realized you had a lot of missed messages on your answering machine. One of those was from your older brother, explaining how he and his wife, as well as your younger brother, would be in town this weekend. They planned on surprising your mom as an early birthday gift. Oh shit, her birthday was next week! You really did love your family, as much as you fought with them and you all remained apart. You loved them all. 

Well, guess you have new plans for the weekend. 

Going to work felt strange after the Arthur incident. Truth be told, _life_ felt strange after Arthur. But you'd think of him and you'd see the crinkled eyes and awkward smile, and that sent your heart racing. 

Your family would never approve of Arthur. Especially your brothers. But you were a good bullshitter and knew how to seduce the family. Maybe you could get them on your side. 

On the way home from work that night, you stopped by a payphone. You heard the ring go on and on, no signs that anyone was home. Then on the final ring when you were about to hang up, the ringing stopped and shallow breathing was heard on the other line.

"Hello?"

There was no answer immediately. Maybe you had to clarify, "Arthur? It's me. Y/N."

"Hi," he said softly.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," you could barely make that out with how mumbled he was speaking. 

"I was just going to ask you something over the phone, but do you want me to come over?" you purposely wanted to sound worried about him.

Another pause. You heard him exhale as if he was putting all of his energy into thinking of a response, "If you want."

That didn't sound good. You hung up without saying goodbye and walked as fast as you could to Arthur's apartment. Part of you was afraid. Would he be hurt again? Did something happen to his mother? No, he would've told you. You climbed the stairs since the elevator had an Out of Order sign plastered to it. When you reached Arthur's apartment, you knocked probably a little too forcefully. 

You heard the lock coming undone slowly and then finally, it creaked open. You forced your way inside and looked Arthur up and down. It was clear he hadn't showered all day, but luckily there didn't seem to be any signs of injury. 

"Hey," you walked in and cupped his cheek, leaning in for a kiss, but he leaned away from you and walked into his apartment. You frowned. 

"Arthur," you followed him, dropping your purse by the door, "Arthur, what's going on?"

He paced the living room floor, running his hands through his hair. It was late enough that Murray started on TV. 

"Come on, I don't really have the patience for this tonight," that probably came out bitchy. But fuck it, you were allowed to be a little annoyed that you came all the way here and now he wasn't even talking. 

"Fine, I'll wait," and you stood in the entryway, arms folded across your chest. 

Arthur stopped his pacing and looked straight at you. The first time he did that since you arrived. You raised your eyebrows at him, expecting an answer. 

"I..." Arthur sighed, a hand shooting up to rub his own chest. He was about to have a fit, you could tell. "I had a bad day," he croaked. 

You exhaled and rubbed your hands over your face, looking at him with a much softer gaze. It was like dealing with a child. Like after one has a nightmare and they want to sleep with you. Except this child lived several subway stops away from you and you wouldn't always be able to comfort this child. Then a slightly darker thought entered your mind. Pity. You pitied Arthur so much. And as much as the other part of you would deny it and say, 'oh no, I love him! It's love! which yeah you knew there was definitely love and affection there but ---- god, stop rambling. Your relationship basically started with pity. You felt sorry for this skinny guy on the train, dressed like a clown. It was the perfect scenario. And then you provided comfort for him. You comforted, and he spiraled back, and you pitied, and you were back at square one. You supposed you took too long to show him a reaction or give him a response, so the laughing started. 

You went over and made him sit on the couch so you could hug him and try and let the fit ride its way out of him, whispering, "Shhh..." over and over again slowly. 

The storm quelled and you asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Arthur seemed.... well, you didn't even have the words. You've seen him beaten, broken, crazy, kooky, demented, even. But this was just a dead space. He was nonexistent in the present world. 

"Whenever you're not here," Arthur began talking, his head leaning on your bosom, "It's like I can't... I don't know how to do anything. I forget," he shifted and looked up at you, "I feel like I'm changing."

You stared at him, brow furrowed. You didn't know how to approach this.

"I know it's hard. You're not used to living without your mom, and I have my own life to live sometimes so I can't always be here for you. You'll have to figure something out, Art," you rested your hand at the base of his neck and toyed with the ends of his hair. Then something clicked in you, "Have you been taking your medicine?"

Arthur's eyes snapped toward the kitchen where you knew he kept the meds. He stayed quiet though. You got off the couch and found the mostly full pill bottles on the counter.

"Y/N..." Arthur began.

"Okay, what the fuck!? Arthur, you..." you were angry, "You can't just stop taking your medication. There's a reason they prescribed this to you."

"But I feel better now!" Arthur got his voice back and he stood up, approaching you. 

"You're delusional," you stated matter of factly, checking the tags and the refill dates on all his medication, "How long ago did you stop taking them?"

"I dunno."

"How long, Arthur?"

He looked at you and you could sense his own anger beginning to bubble inside him, "A week, maybe."

You shook your head, "Here, take these now. Please. So I can see."

"You don't understand--"

"Like hell I do! If I stop taking my meds, do you know what happens? I can barely wake up in the morning without crying. And then I'm stuck in bed the whole day wishing I could just get out of bed and start my day. And then the day's over and---" you swallowed, not wanting to cry. But fuck, you got emotional over everything so what the hell. 

"I don't feel that way. I feel like I have a new seat in life. I used to be way up in the balcony, and now I'm so close to front row it's unbelievable. All these people," he pointed at the TV, which had been interrupted by a special news alert about a new wave of protests in Gotham. Some had raided a higher up's house, "They heard me."

"What are you talking about?" you didn't want to talk about the protests, as much as you pretty much agreed with them. Arthur had killed those guys. You had to keep reminding yourself of that once you figured it out. And you wanted nothing more than to keep him safe. They harassed him and he did it in self-defense. 

Arthur came right up to you and cupped his large hands over your cheeks. He was shaking. Or were you shaking?

His thumbs shifted and they hooked the corners of your mouth. You knew what he was doing and you shook your head, "No," your hands came up to hold his, "Arthur, stop."

"You're so close to seeing it, too."

"Arthur, you're scaring me," you finally had to say. You all of a sudden remembered the whole reason you ended up here. It was so dumb compared to what was happening right now. 

Arthur didn't seem like he knew how to act. He stood there, a smile on his lips, but his eyes were wide and glossy. 

"I was, um," now you didn't know how to swerve subjects so hard, "I was going to tell you that I'd be away this weekend--"

"What?" his demeanor flipped like a switch, "Where are you going?"

"I'm visiting my family."

"No, no, I-I can't be here without you that long."

"You'll be okay."

"You don't understand, I couldn't survive one day without you. Y/N, please..."

"I was going to ask if you wanted to come with me," you had purposely shifted yourself so you were at least five feet away from him. Arthur didn't give you an answer. He just stared at you with those sad, intense eyes of his. 

"I can't."

"Now you can't?"

If Arthur was quick-thinking, he could just use his mother as an excuse, but fuck that he didn't even really want to think of her on a normal day. 

"It's just one weekend," you tried reasoning with him, taking a step closer to him, "I think it'll be good for you. Get you out of the city."

Arthur was on the cusp. Of what, he could almost taste it but he didn't know. He had things to do, he couldn't go. He felt her touch his arms. 

"If you just take your medicine and take a day to relax, I think you'll be able to clear your head. I want you to meet my family--"

"No, thank you."

You made a face, unable to help it. How fucking rude was that!?

"Um..."

"I'm sorry, I can't."

"Arthur, I want to do what's best for you. I love you," you reminded him, leaning up so you could give his cheek a kiss. He let you. 

"Go," was his curt reply.

You frowned, biting your lower lip. You didn't want to let him know how much his behavior was hurting you. You walked around him and went back to the door, picking up your purse, "I'll, um, I'll be back in time to see you on Murray."

Arthur laughed, throwing his head back. That was a real one. You sniffled and opened his door, closing it behind you. You continued hearing his laughter echo through the halls as you left his apartment. 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW NSFW NSFW 
> 
> ~~~
> 
> Sooooo yep! I don't ever write smut so this was honestly my first time. I needed some sexy Joker in here and I couldn't wait any longer. Please enjoy!

The weekend didn't go as fun or as 'peace and quiet' as you would've hoped. Your younger brother wouldn't stop badgering you about how you needed to get out of Gotham and move back in with mom. It was getting too dangerous there. You wanted to tell him there was someone there you were willing to stick it out for. But you didn't. You then became the proverbial punching bag of your two, more successful, brothers. Rough. But mom was doing well. 

Still, even though you spent four nights at your mom's place, you couldn't stop thinking about Arthur. You picked up the phone twice during the stay, wanting to call him and make sure he was doing okay. And then you'd stop yourself because, truthfully, you were still a little pissed at him. And also it might've been good to give him space like this. To get used to life alone. Maybe he was afraid of being alone. Truly, deathly afraid of it. That thought made you pick up the phone the second time during the trip. Again, you decided against it. What else would you say? Hope you're doing okay. Miss you? 

You were honestly relieved to be heading back home on that Tuesday. Yes, your stay was a bit of a long weekend, but whatever. The bus ride went as smooth as it could be, and you arrived in the dark back at your apartment. You tossed your shoes off by the door and flicked on the hallway light. You could see the answering machine blinking and you went over to it, pressing play. 

"I know you said you're leaving, but I just wanted to call and-and try anyway. Hoping you'll pick up..." and the message was cut short by rough laughter, and the hangup beep. You frowned, stopping the filling up of your glass of water as the next message began. Similar. Arthur but now he was breathing harder? And he sounded more desperate. Your heart broke and you walked right in front of the answering machine, as if to quell his ailments through the wire. Message after message seemed to come and go and you felt like crying. You left him alone and he was just beside himself. 

You pressed stop, unable to hear anymore, and you walked towards the living room to get to your bedroom. You needed to unpack and sleep, that would make you feel better in the morning. And you'd give Arthur a call. 

In the darkness of the living room you were about to pass through, the blueish haze from the windows illuminated a figure on the couch. You thought you imagined the shadow. You paused. Then it moved.

You screamed and ran towards the door, but whoever the figure was caught you by the wrist. Your heart was pounding and you struggled but even in the dim light, you looked up, "A-Arthur!?"

He didn't answer. You were both in the still dark living room. He looked different. Maybe he had makeup on? But you knew it was him. Your heart was racing so much you could hardly catch your breath. 

"Arthur, what the fuck," you finally got out of your tightened throat, "You literally scared me half to death! I could've had a fucking heart att--mmph!" 

He kissed you. He didn't let go of the wrist he grabbed you by and pulled you in so you couldn't run away. You were experiencing a major sensory overload. From being scared that there was an intruder, to knowing it was him, and now to him holding you and the kissing. He was truly going for it. Arthur wouldn't stop kissing you and he began to guide you towards the bedroom. 

"Arthur," you got out and you put your hands to his chest. He was wearing a suit, you could feel the lapel. "Arthur, stop. How'd you get into my place?"

Still silent, he led you to your bed and sat you down. 

"Hello?" you didn't know why he wasn't speaking, and the damn bedroom was also dark so you still couldn't see his stupid face, "Arthur--"

"Shh," he shushed you, bringing a finger to your lips, "Lie down."

You blushed, unable to help yourself, "W-What?"

"Lie," he took a pause, "down."

You scooted up in your bed, eyes not leaving what you assumed was his face. Your eyes weren't adjusting. Arthur followed you and he caressed his hand across your cheek and down to your breast, cupping the side of it very gently. You gasped. He kissed you, harder than before. He trailed his kisses down your jaw and onto your neck. Your heart was racing again. Truly, it hadn't fully calmed down since he scared the shit out of you. 

"Please," you whispered.

Arthur stopped what he was doing and he tilted his head up so his breath was just touching your ear, "Please what?"

You couldn't believe just how bothered you were. This wasn't Arthur. No fucking way. But his hands, his lips, it was all Arthur... but enhanced? You found the back of his neck and pulled him back to kissing your lips, this time with you leading. Arthur hummed in contentment. He practically straddled you next, one hand at your waist and the other by your head on the pillow for support. You leaned up into his mouth, and tugged at his suit jacket. 

"Off," you said, softly and yearning. 

You could see him grin, his crooked teeth visible in the night light, "Easy," he practically growled. And the suit jacket came off. You were trying to unbutton his shirt next but he was making it hard by continuously kissing your neck, close to your collar bone. He bit down and you moaned. 

"Arthur, oh my fucking god," you spat out, struggling with the buttons. You heard him give a breathy chuckle and he lifted up your top, sliding it over and off your head. You unhooked your bra for him and he pulled it off all the way, tossing it to the floor. 

"I've honestly never had sex in this bed before," where the fuck did that come from you stupid idiot. Way to kill a mood. Arthur didn't seem to mind, as he finished undoing his shirt and that also was thrown to the side. 

"I'll be happy to break it in with you."

You smiled wide. Who was this suave man and what did he do with Arthur? You touched his chest and wrapped your arms around him, and you gently nipped at his earlobe. You felt him shiver and he was back to your breasts, flicking one of your nipples and tracing slowly around the areola with his fingers. Now you shivered and moaned the most touch-starved whine you hadn't even heard in the best of pornos. That sound made Arthur grin and hum, pleased. He grabbed your hips and pushed you up the bed further towards the headboard. He kissed the middle of your chest and moved downward. His nose brushed against your already hypersensitized skin and you couldn't help but giggle when he was around your belly button. He paused and looked up at you.

"Sorry," you whispered, but he was smiling. He gave your belly another kiss and then a few nibbles as he pulled down your sweatpants. You jerked and laughed. This was sending you for a real trip. The mix of sensations, both outward and internal were astonishingly brazen. You couldn't even think straight. When he stopped with that, he continued his kisses down and down. 

You gasped and pressed your hands into your scalp, pulling on your own hair. Never had a guy gone down on you like this. Never. 

"O-Oh my god," you whined and a hand slapped down onto the comforter. You couldn't hold it together much longer. You were going to moan and whine and make any noises you wanted to. When you were nearing the edge, it stopped and you gasped, looking down at him. He had raised his head and just at that moment, the flickering lamplight from outside illuminated his face. Clown makeup, but it was more intense than anything you'd seen him do when he was Carnival. Your eyes went wide and all you could do was stare as he kneeled up and undid his belt and his pants. They were red. My god. He slipped those off and laid on top of you. You were utterly terrified now that you knew what his face looked like this entire time. But the clown kissed you with those lips of his, red paint already worn out in that area from all he'd done for you. You kissed back and inhaled sharply when he inserted himself in you. Your hands clawed at his bare back, and you could feel every bit of muscle and spine under the skin. Arthur was doing most of the work and you didn't mind. Hell, you weren't thinking. You had zero thoughts, especially not as he sucked on a nipple while thrusting in and out of you. All you wanted was him. 

"Please! Oh please please..." you moaned, "Arth--" a hand flew up to your mouth and all movement ceased. Your eyes went wide again as you stared at this painted figure. 

"Don't call me that," he said and continued his motions, but he kept that hand on your mouth. You were so overwhelmed you couldn't react. You swore you may have been tearing up a bit, but no no, that was just sweat. He scared the shit out of you but was also arousing every nerve on your body. This was insanity. 

"Ah!" you screamed into his palm as you were reaching climax. It looked like he was getting there, but not as close as you were. The hand across your mouth made it harder to breathe, and the clown fed off that, using his other hand to grab the back of your neck and lean you forward. He pressed his chest directly into yours, so you were sliding against each other as he thrust. 

"You're mine," he whispered directly into your ear and your whole body shook, "Say it."

"I-I'm yours ohhh!" you got out right before a long groan chased it away. You came, but the clown kept going. He was leaning down, planting his face in the middle of your chest again. You were tugging at his hair, screaming and begging. For what, you didn't know. Did you want it to stop because you came? Did you want to cum again? 

"FUCK!" you exclaimed as he traced his hands all along your upper body and kissed at your collarbone and around your chest. He finished, and you came a second time. 

He lay on top of you, both of you breathing hard. Arthur sweetly kissed the side of your neck and then your cheek before sliding himself off of you. He wrapped his arms around your waist and spooned you. You lay there, still panting. You started to calm down and you traced the veins popping from his large hands situated on your stomach. He was holding you and he wasn't letting go for the night. You felt his breath on the back of your neck. You shut your eyes, exhausted and tingly all over. 

You just got fucked by the fucking clown. 


End file.
